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THEsSTOEY-OF 

GEOI^ WASHINGTON 



FAMOUS AMERICANS 
FOR YOUNG READERS 



Titles Ready 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 
JOHN PAUL JONES 
BENJAAHN FRANKLIN 
DAVID CROCKETT 
THOMAS JEFFERSON 
•ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
ROBERT FULTON 
V THOMAS A. EDISON 
HARRIET B. STOWE 
MARY LYON 



By Joseph Walker 

By C. C. Fhaser 

By Clark Tkee Major 

By Jane Corby 

By Genk Stone 

By Joseph Walker 

By I. N. McFee 

By I. N. McFee 

By R. B. MacArthur 

By H. O. Stengel 



Other Titles in Preparation 




I'roni a port rail from life l,y ( 'Albert Stiuirt 



W f f t- H-J 

FAMOU5 AME^ANS 

J 



^ THEsSTOEY-OF 

GEOI^ WASHINGTON 



JOSEPH WALKBli 



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BAKSB (Sl, HOPKINS 

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Copyright, 1929, 
BY BARSE & HOPKINS 



JAN 16 1922 



PKINTKH IN THE U. B. A. 



S)nUS54259 



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PREFACE 

There have been so many stories written 
about "The Father of His Country," that a 
word of explanation, if not of excuse, seems 
necessary in presenting this additional book. 
Our reason is threefold. No series of "Fa- 
mous Americans for Young Readers" would 
be complete without the story of this foremost 
American. Washington logically heads the 

list. 

A second reason rests in the fact that too 
many of the biographies of Washington are 
either written for older readers, or else go to 
the other extreme of hero worship. Washing- 
ton is placed upon a pedestal, as a cold, aloof, 
blameless figure to be worshiped. Boys and 
girls do not like that sort of hero; they want 
him to be fiesb-and-blood. 

The third reason is that a new generation of 
young Americans is on its way to the control of 
state affairs, and no better training in citizen- 
ship can be placed in their hands than the plain, 
unvarnished story of each of our great leaders. 
This we have tried to give in the case of George 
Washington — going carefully back to the early 
documents, trying to paint a faithful portrait, 
and supplementing the facts of history with 



PREFACE 

just enough color of imagination to give a 
glow of life to the canvas. Treated as a hu- 
man being, Washington becomes a good com- 
rade and friend whom every boy and girl 
should know and love. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER »AGE 

I. Early Home Life 9 

II. The Young Surveyor 19 

III. The Budding Soldier 28 

IV. In the French and Indian War ... 37 

I V. The Virginia Planter 47 

VI. The Outbreak of the Revolution . . 56 

VII. The First Months of the Revolution . 65 

VIII. A Retreat that Ended in Victory . . 75 

IX. Foes Without and Within .... 82 

X. The Varying Fortunes of War ... 92 

XI. The Surrender at Yorktown . . .101 

XII. The End of Army Life Ill 

XIII. Washington Tries Unsuccessfully to 

Remain a Private Citizen . . . .118 

XIV. President Washington 127 

XV. At Home Again 145 

XVI. The Passing of Washington .... 158 

XVII. Washington the Man 167 



ILLUSTPvATIONS 

George Washington Frontispiece 

From a portrait by Gilbert Stuart 

TAOINQ 
PAGE 

Martha Washington 48 

The "Martha Custis" portrait 

Washington Crossing the Delaware 78 

Mount Vernon 146 



THE STORY OF GEORGE 
WASHINGTON 



EARLY HOME LIFE 

"Do any of you children know what hap- 
pened to my thoroughhred colt?" 

The dignified-looking woman who asked 
this question looked down the table at her 
children and awaited a reply. Her eyes could 
be stern at times, and now they had a look 
which boded no good for some one. 

One of the group, a boy in his early teens, 
looked up and met the questioning glance. 

"Yes, Madam, I think I do," he answered 
quietly, but still meeting her eyes. 

"And what, sirrah?" The tone was i^harp 
as a whiplash. 

"If you are speaking of the filly that no one 
could tame," the boy answered, "I am afraid 
that I am at fault. The colt is dead." 

9 



10 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

"And how did that happen, pray?" 

"Tlie colt was useless unbroken, as you 
know. So ycstercve I went down to the pas- 
ture lot with a halter, mounted the colt and 
rode it." 

"He did, ^ladam, indeed he did!" inter- 
rupted a little maid with shining eyes. 
"George stayed on the colt in spite of its pranc- 
ing, and rode it all around the pasture lot. 
None of the slaves could master it!" 

"Silence!" commanded the mother sharply. 
"ISIaids should not speak until spoken to. I 
want George to tell his own story. What 
killed the animal?" 

"I' faith, JNladam, I fear it killed itself," 
replied the hoy. "Its struggles were so tre- 
mendous that 1 sought only a good opportu- 
nity to quiet it down and dismount, when sud- 
denly blood gushed out of its nostrils and it 
fell over dead." 

IMrs. AVashington looked at her son for a 
full minute. Then her voice softened a trifle. 

"It was an ill loss, for 'twould have made 
the finest steed in my stables. But I can more 
readily lose the colt, than my confidence in my 
children." 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 11 

Nothing more was said of the incident, but 
each child took the moral personally to heart. 
Their mother might be stern at times — she 
was an overworked widow with a large planta- 
tion to look after — but she was just, and she 
could tolerate only the truth. 

Virginia in those days before the Revolu- 
tion was very different from the Virginia of 
to-day. To begin with, it was not a state at 
all — only a colony and a very sparsely settled 
colony at that. The plantations where they 
raised tobacco and corn were merely cleared 
spots hemmed in on all sides by dense forests, 
and connected with the outside world by mere 
trails of roads. More often the means of 
transportation was by river, and the back 
country not so reached was left an undisturbed 
hunting ground for the Indians. 

The Washington family had been identified 
with the Virginia colony almost from its start. 
Jamestown, you v/ill remember, was founded 
in 1607 — thirteen years before the Pilgrim 
Fathers sighted the Massachusetts shore. In 
1657, John Washington and his brother came 
over from England, leaving the ancestral 
home at Sulgrave Manor with its honored 



12 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

family record dating back to Henry the 
Eighth's time, and earlier. 

John Washington (who was the grand- 
father of George) obtained a grant on the 
Potomac River at Bridges Creek, and built a 
house there. It was not pretentious — just a 
plain, old-style southern farmhouse, with steep, 
sloping roof, a big porch in front, a huge chim- 
ney at each end with its promise of big roar- 
ing fires in the winter time, and good things to 
eat dangling from cranes or baking in Dutch 
ovens almost any time. Around the house, 
stretching along the river and running back 
up into the hills was the plantation of nearly 
a thousand acres.J Here as the land was 
cleared, tobacco was planted for shipment 
in huge bales down the river and thence to 
England. 

At John Washington's death the big pros- 
perous plantation was handed down to his son, 
Augustine. By his own first marriage, Au- 
gustine had two sons, whose mother died when 
they were five and seven years of age; they 
were Lawrence and Augustine. Then the 
father married again, his second wife being 
Miss Mary Ball of Lancaster Comity, Vir- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 13 

ginla. To them was born, February 22, 1732, 
a boy whom they christened George. 

The old farmhouse on Bridges Creek must 
have been a happy spot for the children. Be- 
sides the two half brothers, George had 
brothers and sisters of his own to make the 
high-peaked attic roof ring with laughter. 
But the family was not to enjoy the home- 
stead long; for in 1735, when George was 
only three years old, it caught fire and burned 
to the ground. To-day not a stick or a stone 
of it remains, but a memorial shaft has been 
placed there to indicate the spot where the 
"Father of his Country" first saw the light 
of day. 

George's father did not rebuild the house, 
but moved into another farmhouse on another 
plantation of his, in Stafford County, border- 
ing on the Rappahannock River near Fred- 
ericksburg. / This house was similar in type 
to the one that had burned. It stood on a 
little knoll, with an inviting stretch of green 
sloping down to the water. Here George 
lived until he was sixteen years old ; and many 
a pleasant memory must have gone with him 
through life» With his brothers and sisters 



14 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

he wandered over the place, building boats and 
rafts, fishing in the stream, or hunting in the 
woodland. Virginia in those days was a para- 
dise for game, large and small, and many a 
squirrel, pheasant, quail, wild pigeon and duck 
must have graced the family board, thanks 
to the prowess of George and his older 
brothers. 

To-day the old homestead has become only 
a memory. It was destroyed, Hke the first 
home, and nothing remains except descriptions 
to tell us what it was like. It was big and 
roomy, but very simple in its furnishings. 
While George's father was well-to-do in lands 
and servants and stock, he had httle ready 
money; and the finer things of life such as 
dress and furniture must still be brought from 
abroad. 

When George was eight years old he was 
given a pony, named Hero, and Uncle Ben, 
one of the old family slaves, taught him to 
ride it. Before long he was trying to ride, 
one after another, every horse on the place; 
and we have already seen how his mastery of 
the unbroken colt brought him to grief. As 
a youngster George was also the proud pes- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 15 

sessor of a "whip top," brought over from 
England and evidently a rarity ; for in a letter 
to a chum, Dick Lee (who was afterwards to 
grow up into the famous Richard Henry Lee) 
he invites him to come over and play with it. 
"You may see it and whip it," he says in a 
burst of true generosity. 

When George was eleven years old, he lost 
his father. The boy's half brother Lawrence 
was then going to school in England; so the 
boy was left very largely on his own resources. 
His mother had the management of the large 
estate, as well as her household, and the chil- 
dren were expected to assume their share of 
the duties. This does not mean that she 
neglected them. We know that the tie be- 
tween George and his mother was very strong. 
He resembled her more than his father. She 
taught him much of his somewhat scanty educa- 
tion. And after he was grown he always ad- 
dressed her as "Madam," after the courtly 
fashion of Colonial days. 

In those days, it is well for us to remember, 
etiquette for children was as strict as for their 
elders. They arose when older folks entered 
the room, remained standing until the latter 



10 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

were seated, and bowed or courtesied to 
guests in a delightfully formal way. 

George Washington was noted all through 
life for his quiet courtesy, dignity, and charm 
of manner — for much of whidi he was in- 
debted to his stately mother. 

As for other education, there was not funds 
enough to send him abroad. His brother 
Augustine had rebuilt the home at Bridges 
Creek, and George went to live with him for 
three or four years and attend a district 
school taught by a ^Ir. Williams. The school 
did not take him very far, but it gave him a 
fair grounding in the "Three R's" — reading 
'riting, and 'rithmetic. Beyond these funda- 
mentals, Wasliington was largely self-taught; 
but, like the Lincoln of later years, he acquired 
by reading and observation a culture which 
was distinctly his own. 

There were four younger children in the 
Washington family, for which reason the 
mother could not afford to send George even 
to the home college, "William and jNIary." 
He must perforce get what he could from the 
district school. One schoolmate relates of him 
that he was much given to indoor study and to 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 17 

•olitary walks. "His industi'y and assiduity 
at school were very remarkable. Whilst his 
brother and other boys at playtime were at 
bandy and other games, he was behind the 
door ciphering. But one youthful ebullition 
is handed down while at that school, and that 
was romping with one of the largest girls ; this 
was so unusual that it excited no little com- 
ment among the other lads." 

One other memento of his school days has 
been handed down to us. It was his exercise 
book in writing, wherein he set down in a good 
round hand a series of "Rules of Civility and 
Decent Behavior in Company and Conversa- 
tion." This old school copy-book of 1745, 
when George was thirteen, is the earliest of 
his manuscripts that has come down to us. 
In spite of its somewhat damaged state, it 
enables us to trace out some of his work at 
school. Here are items of bookkeeping, and 
accounting, evidently worked out painstak- 
ingly so that he would be able shortly to aid 
his mother in that vexatious branch of her 
business. Scattered among these labored ex- 
ercises are pen sketches of some of the children 
who sat around him, and birds that he had 



Ig FAMOUS AMERICANS 

seen on his walks to school. Then come the 
"Rules of Behavior," some 110 in all. For 
a long time they were thought to be Wash- 
ington's own, but they have since been traced 
back to a foreign work. Nevertheless, the 
care with which George copied them shows 
that they were making their impress upon his 
character. Here are two or three random 
selections, which we hope, are not out of fash- 
ion to-day: 

"Be not immodest in urging your Friends 
to discover a secret. 

"Sleep not when others Speak, Sit not when 
others stand, Speak not w^ien you should hold 
your Peace, walk not when others Stop. 

"Read no Letters, Books, or Papers in Com- 
pany but when there is a Necessity for the 
doing of it you must ask leave. 

"Talk not with meat in j^our mouth. 

"Labor to keep alive in your breast that 
little Spark of Celestial fire called Conscience." 



II 

THE YOUNG SURVEYOR 

"Are you willing for me to go, dear 
Madam?" It was the boy who finally broke 
the silence. George and his mother were dis- 
cussing the dearest wish of his heart — his first 
big ambition. He wanted to go to sea. 

His brother Lawrence had lately returned 
home telling glowing tales of campaigning; 
for after school he had entered His Majesty's 
service. Then the boy had watched many a 
sloop glide down the river ; he had talked with 
many a tar in the tobacco warehouses at Fred- 
ericksburg. And when Lawrence told him he 
could get him a berth as midshipman in the 
navy, the boy was all on fire with eagerness 
and packed up his kit to be gone. 

His mother had almost yielded to his en- 
treaties, when a letter from her brother in Eng- 
land painting life at sea in the darkest colors 

19 



20 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

reached her. It was only a night or two be- 
fore he was to sail. Again the stern glance 
with which the lad was so familiar greeted him 
as they sat by the evening fire. The boy met 
it as always respectfully, but without wavering 
— a true chip of the old block. 

**I will not say you must not go, as you are 
rapidly growing to be a man, but you will 
never go with my approval," she replied. 

"Then I will not go at all," said George 
quietly, and went upstairs and unpacked his 
kit. 

Thus His Majesty's navy lost a recruit, 
who, however, was saved to enter a larger 
arena. 

Back to Mr. Williams' school he went for 
another year to study survejnng, and when 
nearly sixteen he went to visit his brother 
Lawrence, at JMount Vernon. Now for the 
first time the name of this fine old place be- 
came associated with his own — a link that 
history will never break. 

Lawrence Washington was nearly twelve 
years older than George, but had always been 
very fond of the boy and eager to help him 
along. La^vrence had lately returned from a 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 21 

varied experience overseas. After leaving 
school in England, he had seen active service 
under the Union Jack with the gallant Admiral 
Vernon, against the Spaniards, in the West 
Indies. When the wars were over he got an 
honorable discharge and returned to Virginia, 
settling down on the plantation which his father 
had left him, on the banks of the Potomac. 
Here he built a house which he called Mount 
Vernon, in honor of his old naval commander. 
And here he brought home a bride. Miss Fair- 
fax, daughter of Lord Fairfax, a choleric old 
nobleman who lived "next door." 

A word about this gentleman will be of 
interest, as he was to exercise a considerable 
influence upon George Washington's later 
fortunes. He was the sixth Lord Fairfax, 
and was a descendant of a famous Lord Fair- 
fax who helped depose Charles the First, and 
restore Charles the Second. All the line of 
Fairfaxes were rich and powerful, and to a 
later one King Charles gave an immense tract 
of land in northern Virginia. It might have 
lain fallow for many a long day, but for the 
fact that the sixth Lord Fairfax got jilted by 
an English sweetheart. In high dudgeon he 



22 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

turned his back upon England and every pet- 
ticoat in it, and set sail for America and his 
Virginia estate. He found it indeed a tre- 
mendous possession, taking in nearly one-fifth 
of the entire state (as it is bounded to-day). 
But the trouble was, he did not know where 
it began, nor where it ended, and "squatters" 
were settling uj^on it. He needed an accurate 
survey and map of the tract. Where he 
would find a man to undertake such a task 
was a perplexing question. 

It was about this time that he met young 
George Washington, a lad of sixteen, at 
Lawrence's home. The introduction may have 
run something like this: 

*'Lord Fairfax, allow me to present my 
brother George." 

"Humph!" said the old nobleman critically 
surveying the six-foot stripling, who stood 
straight as an Indian before him. "Do all 
you colonials run up like bean poles ?" 

Lawrence laughed. 

"Your lordship, I think you may well keep 
an eye on this youngster. He can show you 
how to find more foxes than you ever dreamed 
were in Virginia." 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 23 

The nobleman snorted. 

"I've hunted foxes in two continents, but if 
the young blood wants to come along we'll see 
what's in him." 

Lord Fairfax was a devoted fox hunter, 
but he had already found that following them 
in the American wilderness was no pink tea 
affair; and he was soon to learn that George 
could ride with the best of them, and that he 
did know where to find the brushes. So it 
was not long before George became an indis- 
pensable fixture at all the hunting parties. 

As the friendship between the old Enghsh- 
man and the young Virginian deepened, we 
can imagine another conversation between 
them on their ride home with the hounds. 

"What do you intend to make out of your- 
self, George?" 

"I don't quite know, sir. I desired to en- 
list in the navy, but my mother was unwilling. 
So if there's no active service at home, I may 
just settle down as a planter." 

"Humph! What are you studying now?'* 

"I have studied surveying under Mr. Wil- 
liams. You see, sir, there are a lot of lands 
near-by which require bounding." 



24 FAMOUS AJMERICANS 

*'Hiimph! Tried your hand at any of it 
yet?" 

*'Yes, some in an experimental way. And 
Lawrence says I have mapped out some of his 
bounds very correctly." ^ 

"The very thing! I believe I could use you 
myself. When you are ready let me know 
and I'll send you over the hill yonder to mark 
out where Fairfax starts and where he ends. 
My cousin, George Fairfax, will go with you." 

George Fairfax was a young man slightly 
older than Washington, but of congenial 
tastes. When he heard of the plan, he was 
eager to taste the adventure of it, and they 
set to work at once to arrange details. 

In the spring of 1748, accordingly, when 
George Washington was just turned sixteen, 
behold him embarking on his first "job." He 
was a full-fledged surveyor, setting out with 
transit and level to conquer one of the toughest 
assignments that any surveyor, even of mature 
years, ever tackled. 

But Washington at sixteen was by no means 
green or immature. The outdoor life which 

1 There is in fact an early survey of Mount Vernon, made 
by George Washington as a boy. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 25 

had been his from early j^outh had hardened 
him wonderfully. He is described as a well- 
set-up young fellow, already six feet tall, and 
well-shaped although a little long as to leg and 
arm, and a little narrow as to chest. His face 
was handsome but for a rather prominent 
beak of a nose, which he was later to "grow 
up to." He was somewhat reserved and bash- 
ful, but with a frank, open face, set off by a 
straight, firm mouth, grayish blue eyes, and 
light brown hair. Although quiet, retiring, 
and not much of a talker, there was something 
about him that inspired confidence. This was 
strikingly shown in the willingness of Lord 
Fairfax to entrust a mere lad with so impor- 
tant a task as surveying his estate. 

The two Georges set about their task in high 
spirits. The Virginian mountains were just 
budding out in the first freshness of spring 
when they started out by way of Ashby's Gap 
in the Blue Ridge, entering the Shenandoah 
Valley. For five weeks during March and 
April, 1848, they worked in what is now Fred- 
erick County, struggling to run their chain 
through virgin forests, over swollen streams, 
down precipitous slopes, and across swampy 



26 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

valleys. To the natural obstacles were added 
the uncertainties of weather, prowllntr wild 
beasts, and wandering Indians. The latter 
were as a rule friendly, but suspicious, and 
had they but dreamed that this innocent-look- 
ing transit and chain were staking off the field 
and forest against their future use as hunting 
grounds, the red men would have made short 
shrift of these youngsters. 

We are given an insight into the perils and 
adventures of the trip, through a note-book 
which Washington kept. He did not dwell 
upon the danger, but "had such a good time" 
that he was ready to try it again. As for his 
work, Fairfax was so pleased with it, that he 
induced the Governor of the colony to appoint 
him a public surveyor. It was the beginning 
of three years of hard pioneering, but it gave 
the young man the finest possible training for 
his later career. He learned to depend abso- 
lutely upon himself; to endure hardship with- 
out complaint; and to stick everlastingly to 
a thing until it was done. Best of all it inured 
iiim to liardship, and rounded him out into 
vigorous manhood. 

A glimpse of what he endured is given in 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 27 

a letter to a friend: "Since you received my 
letter of October last, 1 have not slept above 
three or four niglits in a bed, but after walking 
a good deal all tlie day, 1 have lain down be- 
fore the fire upon a little hay, straw, fodder, 
or a bearskin, whichever was to be had, with 
man, wife, and children, like dogs and cats; 
and happy is he who gets the berth nearest 
the fire. Nothing would make it pass off 
tolerably but a good reward. A doubloon is 
my constant gain every day that the weather 
will permit of my going out, and sometimes 
six pistoles." 

As to the value of these early surveys made 
by Washington, it is said that his maps and 
measurements were so reliable that they have 
been accepted ever since. In fact they are 
about the only correct ones that date back to 
that period. A pretty good record for a boy 
surveyor ! 



Ill 

THE BUDDING SOLDIER 

At nineteen the ytnini;' surveyor was fully 
grown — a tall, powerful i'ellow standing six 
feet, three and a half inehes in his moccasins, 
bronzed and hardy. 

Then came opportunity number three, and 
he was ready for it. 

A society called the Ohio Company was 
formed for the i)urpose of settling the lands 
immediately to the west of Virginia. Trade 
routes were to be planned and opened; and 
new families were to be induced to make their 
homes there. Both of Washington's brothers 
were interested in the project, as also were 
other well-to-do proprietors of Virginia and 
the mother coufitry. What they needed was 
a man to take charge of their field work — one 
who knew the back country and its people, 
and whose physique was equal to the task. 

28 



GE01l(?E WASHINGTON 29 

Who but George Washington could fill this 
requirement? 

Tlic task was fascinating, but it called for 
military training as well. For the T^rench 
were disputing the claim to this western 
countiy, and were already building forts along 
the Ohio River. 

Despite Washington's youth and inexpe- 
rience in mihtary matters, he was appointed 
adjutant general of this district. He at once 
sought out some military officers whom he 
knew, one of whom was Major Muse, and 
learned the manual of arms. The broader 
school of tactics he was to acquire later under 
old General Hard Knocks. 

In reviewing the life of Washington one 
cannot help but marvel at the way that Fate 
— or an All-wise Providence — led him step by 
step to his larger destiny. The boy surveyor 
plunging into the trackless wilderness was not 
turning his back upon opportunity, but was 
even then taking the first steps in the direction 
of leadership of the American Army! 

But now came a new experience, and one 
totally foreign to anything that had gone be- 
fore, or was to come afterward. George took 



30 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

his longed-for sea trip. His brother Law- 
rence wanted to go to the West Indies for his 
health, and needed a companion. So George 
laid aside his military aspirations for the time, 
in order to take care of the invalid. But after 
a winter in the Barbadoes, Lawrence grew 
steadily worse and was brought home to die. 
George himself was seized with the small-pox, 
and had a hard tussle with it, bearing the marks 
of the dread epidemic the rest of his life. 

The loss of his brother was a hard blow, for 
Lawrence had been like a father to him. 
George though only twenty was made one of 
the executors to the estate, JMount Vernon, 
which was thenceforth to be his home. 

INIeanwhile the French were making so much 
trouble in the western frontier, by their fort- 
building and inciting the Indians to hostilities, 
that something had to be done to stop them. 

"We must send some one into the Ohio 
Country to see and talk with these French- 
men," concluded Governor Dinwiddie. "We 
must find out what thej' mean by coming into 
our king's dominion, building forts on English 
land, interfering with our settlers, and stirring 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 31 

up the friendly Indians. Wliorn shall wc 
send?" 

One of the Governor's advisers was I^ord 
Fairfax, and we ean see this erusty old man 
shake his head and say: 

"Humph! There's only one man who is 
fit for the task. Send George Washington!" 

So George Washington was sent. 

He was made a Major and also given the 
high-sounding title of Comnnssioner. He 
conimanded a party of six men, and it was 
their duty to go more tlian one thousand 
miles by horsehaek through a wild or sparsely 
settled eountry, to deal with an enemy and 
his treaeherous allies, the lurking Indians. 

They set out from Williamsburg, the cap- 
ital of the colony of Virginia, on Oct(jber 30, 
1753, just before the api)roaeh of winter. On 
his way he stopped to say good-by to his 
mother, who was still living in the old house 
on the Rappahannock. Her fears for his 
safety led her to try tf) dissuade him from the 
journey, but this time it was not the callow 
youth intent on going to sea with whom she 
dealt. 



32 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

"Mudam," lie said, "1 would be unlriic to 
my proressioii as a soldier, if 1 betrayed tbis 
trust/' 

Aud lookiui*' up at ber big son wbo towered 
above ber, sbc realized wilb a sigli tliat be was 
a man indeed. 

One of bis little ])arly was an old Duteb 
soldier, named A'an Braam, wbo bad taui^bt 
bim to I'enee, and wbo eould speak Freneb — 
lor A\'asbin<;"ton eould not s])eak tbis lann'uaiL>"e. 
jiVnotber was a «;uide named Cbristopber CJist; 
and tbc otbers were frontiersmen wbo knew 
tbe eounlry and tbe Indians. 

Wasbington's I'aitbful diary bas i;iven us 
many details of tbis adventurous journey — 
bow tbey worked tbeir way aeross mountains, 
forded streams, met Indian tribes, some of 
wbom tbey won baek to tbe FiUglisli side. 

On tbe twelftb of Deeember tbey rcaebetl 
tbeir destination. Fort le l>oeuf, near wbere 
tbe eity of Fittsburgb now stands, and de- 
livered tbeir letters to tbe Freneb Commander, 
St. Fierre. lie >vas eourteous but evasive, and 
entertained tbe travelers a few days. Tben 
he gave Wasbington a written reply to 



GKOiior: vvASJiiNcriON ;j;j 

Governor Diriwi(J(iic, arid l\\r. purly sturtcd 
back eastward . 

It was Chrislrn.'is day wlicn WashiM^tf)n 
and bis lillle party started back borne a(;r(),ss 
tbe wilderness. If tbc first part of tbe jour- 
ney was arduous, tbe return in tb(- dead of win- 
ter [)roinised to bo doubly so. Snow b;i(l 
begun to falJ, and soon tbe weary Jjorses were 
stumbb'ng nloDfj; bel[)lcss]y. 

Wasbington was impatient to (k;Jiver bis 
report to the Governor, so decicied to leave Fjis 
nicn and horses, take ordy one companion anrl 
push on abeacJ on foot. lie and (iist aeeonJ- 
ingly took ordy b'glit packs and set out by a 
sbr)rt cut tbrougb the woods. It was a fiaz- 
ar*(b)us thing to do, as tbe Irifiians all .'irourid 
that region were allies of tbe J^Vencb and there- 
fore treacherous. 

They soon had the chance to prove this. 
They hired an Indian giride to show them the 
nearest way through the forest, lie pretended 
to do so, but marched them stearlily on in tfie 
hope of tiring them out. Washington finally 
decided to make camp for the night, but the 
Indian demurred, saying it was not safe. 



34 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

"If you are tired," said the crafty redskin, 
"I will carry gun." 

"No," said Washington; "we will go on." 

They had marched only a mile or two fur- 
ther, when suddenly, without warning, the 
guide wheeled, leveled his own gun directly 
at Washington, and fired. His aim was too 
liasty, however, and the hullet fortunately 
missed hoth the other men. They sprang for- 
ward and seized him, and Gist was for putting 
him to death, hut Wasliington spared him. 

The next day they got rid of the guide, 
traveling by compass. When they reached 
the Ohio River a new danger threatened them. 
The stream was filled with tossing cakes of ice. 

"There was no way of getting over," Wash- 
ington says in his diary, "but on a raft, which 
we set about, with but one poor hatcliet, and 
finished just after sun-setting. This -was a 
whole day's work; \\'c next got it launched, 
then went on board of it, and set off; but be- 
fore we were halfway over, we were jammed 
in the ice in such a manner that we expected 
every moment our raft to sink and ourselves 
to perish. I put out my setting-pole to try 
to stop the raft, that the ice miorht pass by, 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 35 

when the rapidity of the stream threw it with 
so much violence against the pole, that it 
jerked me out into ten feet of water; but I 
fortunately saved myself by catching hold of 
one of the raft logs. Notwithstanding all our 
efforts, we could not get to either shore, but 
were obliged, as we were near an island, to 
quit our raft and make to it. The cold was so 
extremely severe that INIr. Gist had all his 
fingers and some of his toes frozen, and the 
water was shut up so hard that we found no 
difficulty in getting off the island on the ice 
in the morning, and went to Mr. Frazier's." 

Here they paused only long enough to thaw 
out poor Gist, then they procured fresh horses 
and went on. Washington reached Williams- 
burg on January 16, and delivered his letter 
to the Governor. 

The Virginia House of Burgesses was in 
session, and the young Commissioner's report, 
even more than the Frenchman's letter, showed 
the weakness of the western frontier. Some- 
thing must be done besides talk. One of 
Washington's recommendations was that a 
fort be built at the fork of the Ohio River. 
Accordingly a small force was sent under a 



86 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

Cajitain Trent, that spring, to build it. But 
before it was completed, the French surprised 
the building force and seized the work. N^'ear 
by they built a still larger fort of their own, 
which they called Fort Duquesne,* and which 
is the site of Pittsburgh. 

It could mean only one thing — War. It 
proved, in fact, the beginning of a seven-year 
struggle between the English and colonists on 
the one side, and the French and Indians on 
the other. 

The budding soldier, Washington, was 
again meeting a destiny that was ready and 
waiting for him. 

1 Pronounced DuKane. 



IV 

IN THE mENCII AND INDIAN WAR 

As soon as news reached the colonists of the 
building of Fort Duquesne, they began prep- 
arations to send a force against the French. 
Joshua Fry was made colonel, and George 
Washington lieutenant colonel, with direct 
command of the first expedition. All that 
winter he drilled his little volunteer army, and 
in April, 1754, set out on the march westward 
with 150 men, traveling the same route he 
had taken the year before. 

While still some distance from their objec- 
tive, the scouts whom Washington had sent 
on ahead reported a French force in ambush 
waiting to surprise them. The young Vir- 
ginia commander at once decided that two 
could play at surprise parties. Taking a force 
of forty men, he set out at dead of night and 

37 



38 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

in a pelting rain, on a roundabout march to 
come upon tlie enemy's rear. 

"The path," he writes, "was hardly wide 
enough for one man. We often lost it, and 
could not find it again for fifteen or twenty 
minutes, and we often tumbled over each other 
in the dark." 

They pressed on nevertheless, and at day- 
break crept up behind the ambushed enemy. 

"Fire!" commanded Washington, as the be- 
wildered Frenchmen sprang to their feet. 

It was the opening shot of the Seven Years' 
War that answered him. The French com- 
mander, Jumonville, was killed, with nine 
others, and the rest easily taken prisoner; while 
the surprise party lost only one man. This 
little skirmish, called the battle of Great 
Meadows, made a stir on both sides of the 
Atlantic, since it marked the opening of actual 
hostilities, and the young commander began 
to come to public attention. 

The fight was important in another sense. 
It was Washington's baptism of fire, and it 
taught him as it were overniglU that he was 
cut out for a soldier. In a letter to folks at 
home, he confessed: "I heard the bullets 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 39 

whistle; and, believe me, there is something 
charming in the sound." 

Knowing that this little victory would set 
the French and their Indian allies swarming 
about him like hornets, Washington decided 
wisely to press forward no further until he 
could get reinforcements. He built a rude 
fort of logs and dirt, which he called Fort 
Necessity, and asked for more troops. His 
total muster, however, was less than three 
hundred, even after additional companies were 
finally sent him. 

INIeanwhile, the French and Indians came 
down nearly a thousand strong. They would 
not risk an open fight, though Washington 
dared them to do so. Instead, they lay in 
ambush, waiting to starve the English out. 

There could be only one outcome to this — 
surrender. The French offered liberal terms. 
The English were permitted to return home, 
with their side arms and under pledge to build 
no more forts in that country for at least a 
year. 

So Washington marched his men home 
again, feeling the sting of defeat. He ten- 
dered his resignation, and asked to be relieved 



40 FA:M0US AMErxICAXS 

of command. The House of Burgesses, how- 
ever, pubhcly thanked him and his staff "for 
their bravery and gallant defense of their 
country" : and the Governor urged him to head 
another expedition against the enemy. But 
Washingion declined. 

''We nnist not try to fight the French until 
we are ready," he said. "When enough men 
have been raised to make such an expedition 
wise, you can depend upon me to do my share; 
but there is no sense in marching to certain 
defeat." 

The colonists thereupon decided to await 
promised reinforcements from England before 
beginning another campaign. Within the 
twelvemonth they came — two crack regiments 
of redcoats under the command of ^lajor 
General Braddock. The whole countryside 
turned out to see them in re\'iew, wheeling and 
marching, their bright equipment glittering in 
the sun. 

They made a brave display indeed, but 
seasoned Indian fighters, among whom was 
Washington, silently shook their heads at this 
pomp and parade. The redcoats would make 
too plain a target for the skulking enemy. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 41 

But Braddock laughed all these doubts to 
scorn, when they reached his ears. 

"We'll give them a taste of real powder, my 
lads," he promised. 

And the General was no braggart, but a 
fine old seasoned soldier, who had led his men 
abroad through many a tight place. The only 
trouble here — and it proved a fatal blunder — 
was his ignorance of the present enemy's 
methods. 

Braddock made one wise move, however. 
He had heard of Washington as the leader of 
the earlier expedition; and he now invited the 
young Virginian to join his staff, as an aide- 
de-camp. Washington had gone to Mount 
Vernon to look after the estate, but willingly 
dropped his personal affairs to accept the post. 
He saw that Braddock with all his mistaken 
notions meant business. If he could only learn 
the American wilderness ways ! 

But Braddock would not learn. He 
marched his men constantly in the open, to the 
tune of fife and drum, and with colors flying. 
He stopped to construct roads and bridges for 
his cannon. And he could scarcely be per- 
suaded to send scouts ahead. Washington 



42 FAMOUS AMKUICANS 

jidviscd liini to soiid n lio^lil scDiiliiig forcft 
conslnnlly in advance, but to no purpose. 

"This ])ros])cet was soon eloudi'd," lie re- 
ports, "and my hopes brought \cvy low indeed, 
when 1 found that, inslead o\' pushiuL;; on with 
vij^or, willunil rei»ardinn,' a little r()ut»h road, 
they were haUint;" to level every molehill, and 
to ereet hridfj^es over every hrook, hy whieh 
means we were I'our days in gelling twelve 
mues. 

Washington himself had worked a!id wor- 
ried so mui'h at the outset, that he fell siek of 
a fever. He recovered sullieiently in a few 
days to rejoin the troops, thanks to their slow 
progress, lie eaught up with the vanguard 
at a ford of the Monongahela Kiver, about 
fifteen miles from I'ort Ducpiesne. 

As the well-diilled troops marehed in elose 
formation down the winding road to the river, 
Washington was struck with admiration at the 
sight. Eut at the same time, he was filled 
with (tismay. Spm'ring his horse he caught 
up with his superior ollicer and saluted the old 
Ceneral, 

"Sir," he said, "if you will permit me, you 
are exposing your troops to hidden danger. 



GE()R(;K WASHINGTON 49 

We arc now close on the enemy's country, and 
at any moment they may attack." 

"]<'ri()ij/4lil" retorted the (jleneral impa- 
tiently, ' .shall I who have heen in many cam- 
paigns go to school to you raw colonials who 
have never even seen a real hattle?" 

The young olTieer colored, f>ut stood his 
ground. 

"Will you not, at any rate, sir, [)ennit me 
to go uhearl with sonn; of my Virginians, and 
report the whereahouLs of the enemy?" 

'"J'hey will he advised of our api)roach soon 
enough," returned IJraddock hrusquely. 

Suddenly, as the advance guard reached a 
narrow, enclosed portion of tli(; road, a shot 
rang out, then anotlier, and another. 

The French and Indians were in amhush, 
and were shooting into the dense ranks. The 
Hritish regulars ware thrown into confusion. 
They looked wildly ahout for their enemy, hut 
none was in sight. Meanwhile every tree 
trunk and hush seemed to spout torjgues of 
flame, or whizzing arrows. The hravest troops 
in the world could not have held steady under 
such an attack. 

Washington at once galloped forward, with- 



44 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

out waiting for Braddock's orders, and en- 
deavored to hold the line. He told them to 
fall flat upon the ground, and fight from be- 
hind the bush, as their enemies were doing. A 
few did so, but most of them scattered like 
sheep. A company of Washington's Virgin- 
ians, who had previously been sneered at as 
"raw militia," started a counter attack to cover 
the retreat. 

Poor mistaken Braddock called them cow- 
ards when he saw them fighting from behind 
shelters. 

"Stand up and fight like men!" he shouted; 
and with his officers he dashed bravely here 
and yonder to reform his lines. He was to 
pay for his foolish bravery with his life; for 
presently he received a mortal wound. 

As for Washington, he showed a like dis- 
regard for his personal safety, but he seemed 
to bear a charmed life. He got four bullets 
through his coat and had two horses shot from 
under him. Jumping from his horse, at one 
time, he seized one of the small cannon with 
his own hands and turned it upon the enemy. 
One old campaigner later described the inci- 
dent in picturesque style. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 45 

"I saw Colonel Washington sining from his 
panting horse, and seize a brass fieldpiece as 
if it had been a stick. His look was terrible. 
He put his right hand on the niuz/le, his left 
hand on the breacli; he i)iillcd witli this, he 
puslied with that, and wheeled it round, as if 
it had been a plaything. It furrowed the 
ground like a plowshare. He tore the sheet- 
lead from the touch-hole; then the powder- 
monkey rushed up with the fire, when the 
cannon went off, making the bark fly from the 
trees, and many an Indian send up his last veil 
and bite the dust." 

Every moment, however, added to the dis- 
order, and when Braddock fell the troops 
broke and ran. Washington and his Virgin- 
ians fought till the last, protecting their re- 
treat, and saving them from being entirely 
wiped out. He cared for Braddock there in 
the forest until the General's death a few hours 
later, and read a simple burial service for him. 
With his last breath Braddock murmured; 
"What a pity ! We should know how to handle 
them the next time!" 

Washington led the beaten army back to 
Virginia, and was the only man in all that time 



46 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

of disaster who got any glory out of it. But 
personal glory was far from his thoughts. 
Again his soul was filled with bitterness, that 
he had to march home beaten. 

One good thing, however, came of the de- 
feat. It taught all concerned the real problem 
facing them, and when Washington next ad- 
vised, they listened to him. Furthermore, 
Governor Dinwiddie appointed him Com- 
mander-in-Chief of all the Virginia forces. 

Washington did not seek the command. 
He did not want it. But he was never one to 
shirk a plain duty. As he wrote to his mother : 
"If it is in my power to avoid going to the 
Ohio again, I shall. But if the command is 
pressed upon me by the voice of the countrj^, 
it would be dishonorable in me to refuse it." 

For three more years he led his men against 
the Frenc'h and Indians. The English had 
also learned wisdom, and fought the enemy in 
his own fashion. They further sent troops to 
Canada to engage the French there, and the 
latter at last found it so hot that they quietly 
marched out of the disputed Ohio Country. 



THE VIRGINIA PLANTEE 

*'I dunno what de mattah with Massa 
George to-day," grumbled an old darkey. 
"He usually miglity prompt, but heah I is with 
his bosses ready to start, an' he ain't ready yit." 

The scene was the Chamberlayne home near 
Williamsburg, and, the cause of the unusual 
delay a charming young widow who held 
the Indian fighter a willing prisoner. It had 
been a case of love at first sight, at least with 
him; and when he finally rode on his way 
twenty-four hours later, he and Martha Custis 
had plighted their troth. 

A whirlwind courtship it was indeed, but 
again Washington's lucky star was with him, 
for their later married life was extremely 
happy. Martha was his complement in many 
ways. She was short and plump, he tall and 
rugged. She had dark eyes and a laughing 

47 



48 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

countenance. His were blue, and he was nat- 
urally inclined to be grave. She was viva- 
cious and talkative; he serious and taciturn. 
She exerted a profound influence over his life, 
and made an ideal hostess at Mount Vernon 
and later still as the very first "First Lady of 
the Land." 

Soon after the conclusion of the war they 
were married, January 6, 1759 — and a typical 
Virginia wedding of the olden time it was. 
The bride was wealthy in her own right, and 
her retinue befitted a queen. She rode to her 
home at White House (notice the name!) in 
state, in an open coach drawn by six horses; 
she herself clad in white satin, with pearls to 
match; while by himself rode the groom re- 
splendent in his army uniform of blue cloth 
lined with red silk, with silver trimmings. 

For three months Washington remained at 
the home of his bride, looking after her affairs 
preparatory to their removal to IMount Ver- 
non. He became also the legal guardian of 
her two children, "Jack" and "Patty," six and 
four years of age, and came to love them as his 
own. When they were finally settled at 
Mount Vernon, Washington looked at bis 




MARTHA WASHI^(,T<>l^ 
From a girlhood portrait by John Jf ooluston 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 49 

"readjT'-made family" with much delig^ht. A* 
he told a friend: "I am now, I believe, fixed in 
this spot with an agreeable partner for life; 
and I hope to find more happiness in retire- 
ment than I ever experienced in the wide and 
bustling world." 

There is a painting extant showing the Vir- 
ginia planter at home, and it is a pleasing 
family group indeed. Washington sits op- 
posite his comely wife with an air of absolute 
contentment. The two children are in the 
foreground; while in the rear is the negro, 
Billy, Washington's personal servant. 

The only taste of public life at this time was 
an occasional attendance at the House of Bur- 
gesses, as the Virginia assembly was called. 
Washington had been elected a member while 
still away at the wars. When he came to take 
his seat, the Speaker of the House read to him 
a formal address of welcome, thanking him in 
the name of Virginia for his conduct in the 
campaign. 

The thing was so unexpected that the young 
officer colored, stammered, and was at a loss 
for a reply; whereupon the Speaker said: 
"Sit down, Mr. Washington. Your modesty 



50 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

equals your valor, and that surpasses the 
power of any language I possess." 

A very pretty compliment, was it not? But 
we can imagine that its recipient was as red 
as a beet by this time. 

But the bulk of Washington's time for the 
next seventeen years was spent at !Mount 
Vernon. Since his brother's death the estate 
had grown quite valuable; and with his wife's 
property added to his own, he was one of the 
wealthiest men in Virginia. The land itself 
consisted of 8,000 acres, and crowning the 
knoll overlooking the Potomac River was the 
mansion, a typical Virginia homestead of the 
better class. It was a large, two-story house 
with four rooms on each floor. A high and 
broad piazza supported by columns ran the 
entire front length. At the back were serv- 
ants' quarters flanked by gardens, meadows, 
fields, and dense forests beyond. 

It was a spot well calculated to make a man 
happy, and after the hardship of his early 
days, Washington turned to it with the joy of 
a boy let loose from school. He was a prac- 
tical farmer and superintended his crops with 
care. He raised fine horses and blooded stock 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 51 

of all sorts. He rose with the dawn and re- 
tired at nine o'clock. Between whiles he went 
hunting — perhaps he persuaded his old neigh- 
hor, Lord I'airfax, to iiceompany hirn on his 
shorter trips. Frequently the younger George 
Fairfax, friend of his surveying days, rode 
with him. Among his splendid mounts we 
read of Magnolia, the Arahian mare, and 
Biueskin his favorite iron-gray steed, as well 
as Chinkling, Ajax, and Valiant. We seem 
to hear again the haying of his hounds, Vulcan, 
Ringwood, Music, Sweetlips, and Singer. 
Those were indeed the days of real sport ! 

"No estate in UnitedAmerica," he observes 
in one of his letters, "is more pleasantly situ- 
ated. In a high and healthy country; in a 
latitude hetween the extremes of heat and 
cold ; on one of the finest rivers in the world ; 
a river well stocked with various kinds of fish 
at all seasons of the year; and in the spring 
with shad, herring, bass, carp, sturgeon, etc., 
in great ahundance." 

Meanwhile the doors of Mount Vernon were 
always thrown open to the passer-by whether 
friend or stranger. Both George and Martha 
Washington liked to entertain. They had a 



52 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

host of friends, and every person of distinction 
who visited Virginia must needs pay his re- 
spects. In fact, so rarely were they without 
guests, that Washington would note the oc- 
casion in his diary; and he once whimsically 
confided to it that although he had a hundred 
cows he had to buy butter! 

He varied his duties as country gentleman, 
and member of the House of Burgesses, with 
service as vestryman in the Episcopal Church 
at Alexandria, and judge of the county court. 
So he must have led a busy life. 

"A large Virginia estate in those days, was 
a little empire," writes Irving in his delightful 
biography of Washington. "The mansion 
house was the seat of government, with its 
numerous dependencies, such as kitchens, 
smoke-house, workshops, and stables. In this 
mansion the planter ruled supreme; his stew- 
ard or overseer was his prime minister and ex- 
ecutive officer; he had his legion of house 
negroes for domestic service, and his host of 
field negroes for the culture of tobacco, Indian 
corn, and other crops, and for other out-of-door 
labor. Their quarter formed a kind of hamlet 
apart, composed of various huts, with little 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 53 

gardens and poultry yards, all well stocked, 
and swarms of little negroes gamboling in the 
sunshine. Then there were large wooden edi- 
fices for curing tobacco, the staple and most 
profitable production, and mills for grinding 
wheat and Indian corn, of which large fields 
were cultivated for the supply of the family 
and the maintenance of the negroes. 

"Among the slaves were artificers of alT 
kinds, tailors, shoemakers, carpenters, smiths, 
wheelwrights, and so forth; so that a planta- 
tion produced everything within itself for or- 
dinary use; as to articles of fashion and ele- 
gance, luxuries and expensive clothing, they 
were imported from London; for the planters 
on the main rivers, especially the Potomac, 
carried on an immediate trade with England." 

Many of the Virginia planters led lives of 
ease. They looked down on all labor as de- 
grading, and they turned over the active man- 
agement of their property to overseers. Not 
so, Washington. He delighted in the work 
and liked to superintend its details. He kept 
his own accounts, with the same painstaking 
accuracy which had marked the "ciphering" of 
the young surveyor. 



54 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

Not content with his pubhc duties and pri- 
vate affairs, we find him engaged in other en- 
terprises, as for example the draining of the 
great Dismal Swamp. This was a morass 
about thirty miles long by ten miles wide, and 
had been unexplored. Washington himself 
went through it by horseback and on foot, 
made a map of his explorations, and later 
formed one of a company which drahied and 
developed it. 

As a farmer, Washington was much in ad- 
vance of his time. He read up on all the 
agricultural topics that he could lay his hands 
upon. He was a pioneer in two great features 
of modern farming — fertilizing and rotation 
of crops. When he took charge of his planta- 
tion, it, like most Virginia plantations, was a 
one-crop affair — tobacco. But he directed 
that the land should be rested by growing in 
turn as many different crops as possible, and 
that they should buy nothing they could them- 
selves raise. At one time he writes: "My 
countrymen are too much used to corn blades i 
and corn shucks ; and have too little knowledge | 
of the profit of grass lands"; and again, after I 
his return home after the Revolution: "No 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 55 

wheat that has ever yet fallen under my obser- 
vation exceeds the wheat which some years ago 
I cultivated extensively but which, from inat- 
tention during my absence of almost nine 
years from home, has got so mixed or degener- 
ated as scarcely to retain any of its original 
characteristics properly." 

As the quiet, busy years rolled by, Washing- 
ton became more and more the country gentle- 
man. The glamour of war was forgotten, and 
when a friend reminded him that he had 
once said the hum of a bullet "had a pleasant 
sound," he replied apologetically, "Ah, that 
was when I was young!" 

But by his constant outdoor life, exercise, 
and regular habits he kept himself in the pink 
of condition. At forty it was said of him that 
he could throw a hammer farther, and run a 
longer distance than any man of his acquaint- 
ance. It was said that he could throw a silver 
dollar across the Potomac from his front door- 
yard — although some wag has retorted that a 
dollar went farther in those days than it does 
to-day ! 



VI 

THE OUTBREAK OF THE REVOLUTION 

Every schoolboy and girl is familiar with 
the facts which led up to the Revolution — how 
the English government enacted one law after 
another directed against the Colonies, and 
without giving them the slightest voice in it. 
England does things far diiferently nowa- 
days ! 

The chief bone of contention was the levying 
of special taxes, such as that upon every 
pound of tea shipped to America. These 
levies under the "Stamp Act" were constant 
causes of irritation, and the quarrel continued 
for ten or twelve years. The rift constantly 
grew wider between the mother country and 
the daughter, and another important thing 
resulted. The thirteen separate colonies scat- 
tered along the Atlantic Coast began to come 
together for self-defense. From being sepa- 

56 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 57 

rate communities with few interests in common, 
they saw that their only safety lay in union. 
It was the first start toward nationality. 

In September, 1774, in answer to a general 
call, each of the thirteen colonies sent picked 
men to a convention in Philadelphia, which 
besides being the largest city was cen- 
trally located. The delegates met in a build- 
ing known as Carpenters' Hall, and their 
organization became known as the First Con- 
tinental Congress. 

Of these stirring times we are all so familiar, 
that it is not necessary to treat them in further 
detail, except as they affected the fortunes of 
a certain Virginia planter. 

Washington was chosen from Virginia, 
among others, to attend this Congress; and 
rode thither in company v/ith the fiery Patrick 
Henry and the courtly Edmund Pendleton. 
As they left Mount Vernon with its domestic 
peace, Martha Washington said : 

"I hope you will all stand firm. I know 
George will. God be with you, gentlemen!" 

This first session of Congress was not in 
open rebellion. Many who attended were 
still loyal subjects of the Crown. They only 



.58 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

sought a way out of the misunderstanding. 
They remained in session fifty-one days, and 
when their petition was finally presented to 
the House of Lords in London, the great 
statesman Chatham said: 

"When your lordships look at the papers 
transmitted to us from America; when you 
consider their decency, firmness, and wisdom, 
you cannot but respect their cause, and wish 
to make it your own." 

Nevertheless, there were hotheads led by 
the stubborn old king himself v/ho would not 
accept this olive-branch of peace. 

On his return home, when Patrick Henry 
was asked who was the greatest man in Con- 
gress, he answered: "If you speak of elo- 
quence, ]Mr. Rutledge of South Carolina is by 
far the greatest orator; but if you speak of 
solid information and sound judgment, Colo- 
nel Washington is unquestionably the greatest 
man on that floor." 

While a peaceable way out was still being 
sought, news came of the Boston Massacre 
and the Battle of Lexington, and hard upon 
the news the whole country seemed to rise in 
arms as one man. Congress was convened 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 59 

again on May 10, and although they sent a 
second petition to King George, their chief 
concern was to equip and provide leaders for 
the army that was already coming together. 
Above all they wanted a commander-in-chief 
— one who was accustomed to handling men, 
who had executive ability, experience in mili- 
tary matters, and the bodily strength for this 
arduous task. 

John Adams of Massachusetts rose up to 
speak. He was a man whose opinions always 
commanded respect. 

"Gentlemen," he said to the Congress, "as 
I look over this body, I have but one gentle- 
man in my mind. He is a certain gentleman 
from Virginia who is among us and is well 
known to us all. His skill and experience as 
an officer, his independent fortune, great 
talents, and excellent universal character 
would command the approbation of all the 
colonies, and unite the cordial exertions of all 
the colonies better than any other person in 
the union." 

Every one knew wfhom John Adams meant, 
and all eyes were turned in a certain direction 
where a tall, athletic figure dressed in a colo- 



60 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

nel's uniform of buff and blue, was quietly- 
slipping out of the room. Washington never 
outgi-ew his shyness of public praise. 

As a result of Adams's speech, Washington 
was unanimously elected commander-in-chief 
of the Continental Army. After the vote was 
announced, Washington thanked Congress for 
this honor and the confidence it implied, 
adding: 

"I beg it may be remembered by every gen- 
tleman in the room, that I this day declare, 
with the utmost sincerity, I do not think my- j 
self equal to the command I am honored with. 
As to pay, I beg leave to assure the Congress 
that, as no pecuniary consideration could have 
tempted me to accept this arduous employ- 
ment, at the expense of my domestic ease and 
happiness, I do not wish to make any profit 
of it. I will keep an exact account of my ex- 
penses — that is all I desire." 

And he wrote to his wife: "I should enjoy 
more real happiness in one month with you 
at home than I have the most distant pros- 
pect of finding abroad, if my stay were to be 
seven times seven years." And again: "It 
is a trust too great for my capacity, but it 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 61 

has been a kind of destiny" (at last he recog- 
nized it!) "that has thrown me upon it, and it 
was utterly out of my power to refuse it." 

Losing no time, Washington mounted his 
horse and turned northward toward Boston, 
then the center of disturbance. He found 
on his way that, far from being the unknown 
Virginia planter, his name and his fame had 
preceded him. They told of his earlier 
prowess against the French and Indians, and 
they turned out in crowds to hail him and 
wish him God-speed. He was no longer an 
individual; he was the personification of their 
liberties. 

As he rode with his armed escort, he was 
met by tidings of the battle fought on Breeds 
Hill (or "Bunker Hill," as the fight was later 
called from a neighboring eminence). The 
hard-riding courier reported that the Amer- 
ican force had finally been dispersed. It 
looked like a bad defeat. 

"Why did they retreat?" asked General 
Washington (as he must now be called). 

"Their ammunition gave out," answered the 
courier, truthfully. 

"And did they stand the fire of the British 



62 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

regulars as long as they had aiimiunition?" 
pressed the commander. 

"That they did!" replied the com-ier. 
"They held their own fire in reserve until the 
enemy were within eight rods." 

A look of relief came across Washington's 
face, as he turned to Generals Lee and Schuy- 
ler who were by his side. 

"Then the liberties of the country are safe, 
gentlemen!" he exclaimed. > 

It was a prophecy which finally proved 
true. 

On he and his party rode — through New 
York, along the old Post Road, and finally 
reached Cambridge on the outskirts of Boston, 
where the Continental troops were assembled 
— still defying their enemy entrenched across 
the Charles River, in Boston. 

Under the branching limbs of a stately elm, 
which still stands not far from the present 
campus of Harvard University, Washington 
unsheathed his sword and formallj^ took com- 
mand of the Continental Army. The date 
was July 3, 1775. 

Washington was then forty-three years old. 
An actual description of him at the time, from 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 63 

the diary of Dr. James Thatcher, a surgeon 
in the army, is of interest: "The personal ap- 
pearance of our commander-in-chief is that of 
a perfect gentleman and accomplished warrior. 
He is remarkably tall — full six feet — erect 
and well-proportioned. The strength and 
proportion of his joints and muscles appear to 
be commensurate with the preeminent powers 
of his mind. The serenity of his countenance, 
and majestic gracefulness of his deportment 
impart a strong impression of that dignity and 
grandeur which are peculiar characteristics; 
and no one can stand in his presence without 
feeling the ascendency of his mind, and associ- 
ating with his countenance the idea of wisdom, 
philanthropy, magnaniniity, and patriotism. 
There is a fine symmetry in the features of his 
face indicative of a benign and dignified spirit. 
His nose is straight, and his eyes inclined to 
blue. He wears his hair in a becoming cue, 
and from his forehead it is turned back, and 
powdered in a manner w^hich adds to the mili- 
tary air of his appearance. He displays a 
native gravity, but devoid of all appearance of 
ostentation. His uniform dress is a blue coat 
with two brilhant epaulets, buff-colored under- 



64 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

clothes, and a three-cornered hat with a black 
cockade. lie is constantly equipped with an 
elegant smallsword, boots and spurs, in readi- 
ness to mount his noble cliarger." 

In this personal description, perhaps ful- 
some in its praise, we can still see something 
of the boundless respect and confidence which 
the new commander inspired among his men, 
and which was to continue through all the 
weary months of the Revolution. 



VII 

THE FIRST MONTHS OF THE KEVOLUTION 

When Washington waved his sword in the 
air, as he sat his horse, under the spreading 
elm at Cambridge, and took eommand of the 
American troops, none knew better than he 
that the whole ceremony was only an empty 
show. In order to become a real commander- 
in-chief he must first have an army worthy 
of the name. The men who faced him were 
patriotic enough but they were an undisci- 
plined mob — men 'hastily gathered together 
from all walks of life. Uniforms there were 
none, and weapons were of all makes and pat- 
terns. Many had no guns at all, and powder 
was lacking. The terms of enlistment were 
so short that men were constantly dropping 
out and going home, to be replaced by others 
no less green. 

Washington saw that his first duty was to 
65 



66 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

drill and discipline the troops. They were an 
easy-going lot, not accustomed to obeying 
orders. So from that midsummer day on 
through the fall and winter, he drilled his men 
into some semblance of order, obtained sup- 
plies, and, in a word, manufactured an army. 
In appearance it still aroused the derision of 
the well-dressed, smart-stepping redcoats, but 
still it was an army on its way to becoming 
a formidable fighting machine, as the British 
were soon to find out. 

From the outset this army performed 
one valiant service. It kept the British shut 
up tight in Boston. Three crack generals 
had been sent over from England — Howe, 
Clinton, and Burgoyne, with a considerable 
body of men — and they must have chafed at 
the inaction. They spoke of the patriots only 
as a bunch of farmers and store-keepers. They 
would not recognize Washington as a general. 
But despite this, they were compelled to stick 
to the city. Meanwhile they fortified Bunker 
Hill and other points of approach. 

Washington, on his part, was only waiting 
for the right moment to engage the enemy. 
As his army was drilled into shape, he felt 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 67 

more and m(3re confident of it. In studying 
the map of operations he noted also that the 
British had left one weak link in their defenses 
— Dorchester Heights, overlooking the city 
from an opposite direction. Deploying a 
force around there in the night, the men 
worked so fast that when the sun rose a new 
fort was taking shape and its guns were al- 
ready trained u])on Boston. 

General Howe was astounded. "I know 
not what to do," he said. "The rebels have 
done more work in one night than my whole 
army would have done in one month." 

He saw that the work must be stopped at 
once, and, the following night, sent a force 
of 2,500 men by water to surprise and seize 
the new fort. But they were hindered from 
landing by a violent storm, and the next day 
the rain continued to fall so heavily that an 
attack was impossible. The Americans, how- 
ever, still worked feverishly despite the el- 
ements, and by the third day had made the 
fort so strong that the British were afraid to 
attack it. With such a fort constantly menac- 
ing the garrison and the ships in harbor, noth- 
ing remained but for the proud British to 



68 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

evacuate the city. Out they marched, on 
March 17, 1776, headed for New York. 

The Continental Army did not offer them 
battle, but at once marched into the city, and 
planted their own Hag on its forts. It was 
a bitter blow to the British, for in this city 
they had planned to crush the rebellion in short 
order. In the House of Lords, the Duke of 
Manchester said: "British generals, whose 
name never met with a blot of dishonor, are 
forced to quit that town, which was the first 
object of the war, the immediate cause of hos- 
tihties, the place of arms, which had cost this 
nation more than a million to defend." 

A thrill ran througli all the colonics at this 
first signal success of the Continental Army. 
It proved again that England was not in- 
vincible, and that man for man the patriots 
could hold their own. Congress gave a vote 
of thanks to Washington, and struck off a 
medal in his honor, bearing a profile likeness 
of him on one side, and the scene and date of 
the capture of Boston, on the other. 

Plard on the heels of the retreating Brit- 
ishers, his army followed to New York. But 
with each day the difficulties of his task in- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 69 

creased. The first victory had caused a let- 
down in the morale of his men. They were 
inclined to take it too much as a lark. By 
constant recruiting and drilling he managed 
to get a force together of about ten thousand 
men. Against these the British soon had a 
force of three times that number. They had 
swelled their own ranks by hiring some Ger- 
man soldiers, known as Hessians, who were 
sent over that summer. Many Englishmen 
were indignant at employing these hirelings 
to shoot down their own relatives in America; 
and naturally it did not increase America's 
love for either the mother country, or 
Germany. 

The seeds of distrust once sown are hard 
to uproot. The rift with England was healed 
in the course of years by her generous treat- 
ment of America the nation. But the course 
that Germany took when we fought for free- 
dom has always been remembered by contrast 
with that of France, who sent over troops to 
help us. With France to-day a peculiar and 
beautiful friendship exists; and when we sent 
over troops in our own turn to help her in her 
distress, in the World War, General Pershing 



70 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

on landing said: "Lafayette, we have come!" 

And now came the first great battle of the 

Revoliiti(ni. The Americans met a force two 

or three times their number, on Long Island 

just across from New York, on August 27, 

1770, and were badly defeated. The trained 

British and Hessians were more than a match 

for the ragged colonials, who fought bravely 

and lost heavily. As Washington watched 

the conflict he wrung his hands, exclaiming: 

"What brave fellows I must this day lose!" 

General Howe glowed with satisfaction, as 

well he might. 

"To-morrow evening will bring the fleet u^) 
the river," he said, "and with an army on one 
side of the rebels and our ships on the other, 
we will bag the whole army and crush the 
rebellion." 

But the only trouble with Howe as well as 
with the other British generals was that they 
did not know Washington. He had foreseen 
this defeat, and while he did not welcome it, 
he knew that the lesson was needed, in order 
to arouse the whole country to the necessity 
of having a large and well-trained army. 
While the battle was raging he had quietly 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 71 

given orders to collect every boat small and 
large in East River. That night, aided by a 
dense fog which seemed providential, he em- 
barked his men. Washington himself went 
across on the last boat. He had been forty- 
eight hours without sleep. When morning 
dawned the British were chagrined to find that 
their defeated enemy of yesterday was once 
again an active enemy in the field somewhere 
north of New York. 

It is related that a Tory woman (that is, 
a sympathizer with the British cause) had seen 
the troojjs crossing the river, and had sent her 
servant to British headquarters to announce 
the fact. The Hessian sentry on duty did not 
understand English, so locked up the mes- 
senger on suspicion until morning, when it was 
too late. That was one time when a soldier 
"made in Germany" was not as good as the 
home product ! 

IIow fine it would be to write a story of 
Washington which would abound in victories 
for himself and his men in these first months 
of the Revolution! But sober history shows 
just the reverse; and indeed Washington the 
man shows himself greater in defeat than in 



72 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

victory. He held his men together and fought 
against tremendous odds. His men often 
lacked the barest necessities of hfe. There 
were sickness in camp, discouragement, and de- 
sertion. Washington said: "Men just drag- 
ged from the tender scenes of domestic life, 
unaccustomed to the din of arms, totally un- 
acquainted with every kind of military skill, 
are timid, and ready to fly from their own 
shadows. Besides, the sudden change in their 
manner of living brings on an unconquerable 
desire to return to their homes." 

While he had every sympathy for raw, home- 
sick troops, he had no patience with cowardice. 
Soon after his retreat from Long Island he 
established some breastworks in Harlem. The 
British came up by water and attacked them. 
The mihtia were seized with panic and fled 
at the first advance. Washington dashed in 
among them and endeavored to reform the 
lines, but in vain. Losing his self-control he 
exclaimed in a fury: 

"Are these the men with whom I am to 
defend America!" 

He threatened some of the fleeing men with 
pistol and sword, and was so heedless of liis 
own danger that he might have fallen into the 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 73 

enemy's hands, then only eighty yards distant, 
had not one of his staff officers seized the 
bridle of his horse and pulled him away 
forcibly. 

This was one of the few recorded instances 
where Washington lost command of himself, 
and it was but momentary. The condition of 
the army was indeed critical. Most of the 
men had enlisted for temis not exceeding a 
year, and Congress was not offering induce- 
ments to re-enlist. 

"We are now, as it were, upon the eve of 
another dissolution of the army," he wrote, 
"and unless some speedy and effective meas- 
ures are adopted by Congress, our cause will 
be lost." 

In September he wrote a long letter to this 
effect to John Hancock, the President of Con- 
gress, wihich finally led to the reorganization 
of the army on a sounder basis. Meanwhile, 
on October 28, the American forces suffered 
another defeat at White Plains, although the 
"ragged rebels," as the British contemp- 
tuously called them, put up a splendid resist- 
ance lasting through two days. 

Contrast the picture of these two armies if 
you can! The British advanced in two col- 



74 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

umns, the right commanded by Sir Henry 
Clinton, the left by the Hessian general, De 
Heister. There was also a troop of horse. 

"It was a brilliant but formidable sight," 
writes Heath in his memoirs. "The sun shone 
bright, their arms glittered; and perhaps 
troops never were shown to more advantage." 

While here is a pen picture of the patriot 
army written by a British officer to a friend: 

"The rebel army are in so wretched a con- 
dition as to clothing and accouterments, that 
I believe no nation ever saw such a set of tat- 
terdemalions. There are few coats among 
them but what are out at elbows, and in a 
whole regiment there is scarce a pair of 
breeches. Judge, then, how they must be 
pinched by a winter's campaign." 

Despite the defeat at White Plains Wash- 
ington withdrew his army in good order. 

An aide pays this tribute to his strategy: 

"The campaign hitherto," he says, "has been 
a fair trial of generalship, in which I flatter 
myself we have had the advantage. If we, 
with our motley army, can keep Mr. Howe 
and his grand appointment at bay, I think we 
shall make no contemptible military figure." 



VIII 

A RETREAT THAT ENDED IN VICTORY 

After the battle of White Plains the Ameri- 
cans continued to give ground. Indeed, there 
was nothing left for them to do, to avoid the 
continual prospect of capture. Washington's 
next move was to cross the Hudson into Nfew 
Jersey. His little army was so hard-pressed 
that it narrowly escaped capture at Ilacken- 
sack, by Cornwallis. 

The army now did not exceed three thou- 
sand men. In their rapid marches they had 
lost much of their equipment including tents 
and tools for digging entrenchments. Winter 
was approaching and they were in a desperate 
plight. 

Washington himself was not free from at- 
tack at home. A cabal was working against 
him both in camp and in Congress to sup[)lant 
him with another general. They said that he 

75 



7C FAMOUS AMERICANS 

was too cautious, that lie would not fight. 
Some of his most trusted officers added to his 
difficulties by disobeying or delaying to ex- 
ecute his orders. But the commander-in- 
chief did not reply to his critics. He set his 
lips firmly together and hung on. 

Cornwallis continued to press upon his re- 
treat. Washington moved to Newark. It 
was like the moves upon a gigantic cliecker- 
board. He moved again to New Brunswick, 
just as Cornwallis occupied Newark. So 
close were the two armies that the last of 
Washington's men was leaving Newark when 
the British vanguard entered the town. 

Moving from New Brunswick, Washington 
marched by way of Princeton to Trenton, 
reaching there the second day of December. 
The Delaware River was now beginning to 
fill with ice, but he collected all tlie boats 
within seventy miles and safely crossed with his 
army. Cornwallis in full pursuit reached the 
eastern shore just as the last boat had gotten 
safely over, and looked in vain for a means 
of crossing. There was nothing for it, but to 
encamp and wait for the river to freeze over, 
which it promised to do in a few days. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 77 

It did indeed seem as though the cause of 
freedom was lost, but the spirit of the leader 
himself was firm and unbroken. 

"What think you," he asked of General 
Mercer; "if we should retreat to the back parts 
of Pennsylvania, would the Pennsylvanians 
support us?" 

"If the lower counties give up, the back 
counties will do the same," was the discourag- 
ing reply. 

"We must then retire to Virginia," said 
Washington. "Numbers will repair to us for 
safety, and we will try a predatory war. If 
overpowered, we must cross the Alleghanies." 

But never did the word "surrender" pass 
his lips! 

Instead, at the moment when the American 
cause seemed most hopeless, he executed a bril- 
liant coup against the enemy, and one which 
changed tlie entire aspect of the campaign. 

Cornwallis had himself returned to New 
York for a few days, leaving the pursuing 
army of Hessians encamped at Trenton. 
With customary German thoroughness they 
had seized everything in sight, and now set- 
tled down to enjoy life. The enemy was on 



78 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

the run, Christmas was approaching — so why 
not eat, drink and be merry? 

But the American army, far from being on 
the run, was quietly securing boats to re-cross 
the river and attack them. On Christmas 
night the expedition set out. It seemed the 
v^ery worst time to attempt such a venture. 
The weather was bitter cold, the air was filled 
with particles of sleet, and the current with 
floating cakes of ice. But the very desperate- 
ness of the venture was its safeguard so far as 
the enemy was concerned. He had eaten his 
Christmas dinner, and secure against surprise 
was sleeping it off. 

During the thickest of that wild night 
Washington and his brave men battled with 
wind and stream and ice, getting safely over 
with the loss of only two men who were frozen 
to death. At four in the morning they began 
a march overland through the storm to 
Trenton. At eight they reached the village, 
overpowered the sentries, and surrounded the 
camp. 

The Hessians were roused from their late 
slumbers by the cry: "Der feind! der feind! 
heraus!" (The enemy! the enemy! turn out!) 




Q 

a 

X 

O 



GEOllGE WASHINGTON 79 

but it was too laic. Their commandiii*^- ofliccr, 
lialil, was killed, and all hut live hundred, 
who managed to escape, laid down their arms. 
One thousand were thus eaj)tured and, more 
imi)ortant still, a large quantity of much- 
needed suj)])lies was obtained. 

Most ini[)ortant of all, new Hie had been put 
into the army. A thrill ran through the whole 
land. Patriots took heart again. This vic- 
tory small in its tangible results will always 
rank as one of the most dramatic and thrilling 
events in American history. 

The eajitin-cd Hessians were marched from 
place to place until they reached V^irginia. 
At first they were the object of much cm-ios- 
ity, and upbraiding as well. Especially did 
they liave to endure the scoldings of women in 
the small towns, who told them that they had 
hired tlu'mselves out to rob the Americans of 
their liberty. 

A German corporal who kept a diary of the 
time writes: "At length Genei-al Washington 
had written notices put up in town and coun- 
try, that we were innocent of this war and had 
joined in it not of our free will, but 
through compulsion. We should, therefore, 



80 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

be treated not as enemies, but friends. From 
this time things went better with us. Every 
daj^ came many out of the towns, old and 
young, rich and poor, and brought us pro- 
visions, and treated us with kindness and 
humanity." 

When Cornwalhs learned of the disaster at 
Trenton, he rode back from New York with 
all haste. This time, Washington instead of 
retreating decided to wait for him. Corn- 
walhs brought fresh troops and supplies, and 
his line when he reached Trenton extended 
back to Princeton. Washington was en- 
trenched on the opposite side of a small but 
deep and swift stream which was spanned only 
by a stone bridge. The enemy tried repeat- 
edly to cross over, but without success. With 
the approach of night they ceased firing and 
made camp, each with his campfires in plain 
sight of the other. 

"Ntever mind," said Cornwallis to his men. 
"I shall bag the old fox in the morning." 

But when morning came, no Washington 
was there. Instead of waiting to be bagged 
he had marched swiftly and silently around 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 81 

the British and was now trying to capture 
their supplies at Princeton! 

Cornwallis hurried back and although he 
saved his baggage, he got the worst of it in 
this his first direct encounter with Washing- 
ton. The English general, in fact, now sud- 
denly found conditions reversed. Instead of 
being the pursuer he was now the pursued. 
He entrenched himself in New Brunswick 
where he could supply his needs by water, from 
New York. And here all winter he stuck. 
He could not send out so much as a foraging 
party without danger of its capture. 



IX 

FOES WITHOUT AND WITHIN 

This hrit r life story of Washington will not 
attempt to give a detailed aecount of t'lie prog- 
ress o\' the Kevolulion. Kvery school his- 
tory reeoiints it. We nnist therefore pass 
liglitly on tlie siieeee(hng years of its ])rogress, 
noting only sueli faets as may serve to hring in 
eleai'cr detail our portrait of the great com- 
mander. 

Aftf^r the battle of I'l-inceton, Wasliington 
made his headquarters at IMorristown, where 
he kei)t a watchful eye upon the enemy in Ntw 
York and New T^nniswick. ?ileanwhik^ he 
was busily writing letters to Congress and to 
various state legislatures urging them to send 
more nicTi to fill up his (k'|)leted ranks. 

"The enemy," he writes, "must be ignorant 
of our numbers and situation, oi* they would 
never suffer us to renuiin luunolested, and I 

82 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 83 

almost tax myself with imprudence in commit- 
ting the fact to paper, lest this letter should 
fall into other hands than those for which it 
is intended." 

To General Putnam he said: "Try to make 
the enemy believe that your force is twice as 
great as it is." And this precept was actually 
put int( ^n-actice on at least one occasion, when 
a wounded British officer was brouglit into 
camp. Lights were placed in the windows 
of vacant houses all over town, and a company 
of soldiers was marched and countermarched 
up and down the main street all night long. 
Wlien the British officer was suffered to rejoin 
his command he reported that the American 
force w;is very active and must consist of at 
least 5,000 men! 

Washington also watched over his men with 
a fatherly solicitude. We find him writing to 
one of his brigadier generals as follows: "Let 
vice and immorality of every kind be dis- 
couraged as much as possible in your brigade; 
and, as a chaplain is allowed to each regiment, 
see that the men regularly attend divine wor- 
ship. Gaming of every kind is expressly for- 
bidden, as being the foundation of evil, and the 



84 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

cause of many a brave and gallant officer's 
ruin." 

The first definite successes of the American 
army had an effect in another quarter. It 
directed the attention of soldiers of fortime 
in foreign lands, and many requests came 
for permission to serve under Washington. 
These w^ere as a rule embarrassing to him, as 
the men usually brought nothing but inex- 
perience, so far as America was concerned. 
Two notable exceptions must be mentioned, 
however. 

Thaddeus Kosciusko, a Pole of ancient and 
noble family, had been disappointed in a love 
affair, and emigrated to America. Armed 
with a letter from Franklin he sought out 
Washington. 

"What do j^ou seek here?" asked the com- 
mander. 

"To fight for American independence," was 
the reply. 

"What can you do?" 

"Try me." 

Washington was so pleased by the brief 
but business-like manner of the young for- 
eigner, that he made him an aide-de-camp. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 85 

Congress shortly after appointed him an 
engineer with the rank of colonel; and he 
proved a valuable officer during the succeed- 
ing years of the Revolution. ; 

The other name which is inseparably linked 
with that of Washington, is of a certain gal- 
lant young Frenchman, the Marquis de La- 
fayette. Unlike Kosciusko, he did not turn 
to America because of a disappointment in 
love. Lafayette at twenty was happily mar- 
ried and a favorite of the French court. But 
his chivalrous spirit was so stirred by the 
American struggles, that he turned his back 
upon home and friends, and came to this coun- 
try to cast in his lot with our uncertain for- 
tunes. 

He presented his letters of introduction to 
Congress, only to meet with discouragement. 
So many such requests had been received that 
Congress felt it must go slow. Lafayette 
then sent in the following note: "After my 
sacrifices, I have the right to ask two favors; 
one is to serve at my own expense; the other, 
to commence by serving as a volunteer." 

This simple appeal had its effect, and Con- 
gress accorded him the rank of major-general. 



80 FAMOUS AJNli^nUCANS 

Lalcr at a public (iiiiner he lirsl met Wash- 
ington. The hitter was surrounded by his 
stalF, but Lafayette ininiediately knew him by 
his stature and coninianding presence. AVash- 
ington greeted him graciously, and invited him 
out to Iieadquarters. 

"I cannot promise you the luxuries of a 
court," said he, "but as you have become an 
American soldier, you will doubtless accom- 
modate yourself to the fare of an American 
army." 

Thus began a friendship between two high- 
souled men, that was to be of lasting value to 
the American cause. For in addition to his 
own efforts and the funds he was able to raise, 
Lafayette later influenced still greater aid 
from France as a nation. 

li.ifayette in his IMemoirs describes a review 
of Washington's army which he witnessed soon 
after reporting for duty. 

"Fileven thousand men, but tolerably armed, 
and still worse clad, presented a singular spec- 
tacle; in Ihis j)arti-colored and often nak(>d 
state, the best dresses were hunting shirts of 
brown linen. Their tactics were equally ir- 
regular. They were arrayed without regard 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 87 

to size; cxcej)tiii^' tluit the snuillcst incri were 
the front nink; with all this, there were pfood- 
looking soldiers eoTidueted by zealous ofHeei-s." 

"We ought to feel enibarrassed," said 
Washington to him, "in presenting ourselves 
before an offieer just from the French army." 

"It is to learn, and not to instruct, that I 
come here," was Lafayette's apt and modest 
reply, and it gained for him immediate 
I)opularity. 

The year 1777 witnessed both victory and 
defeat for the patriot army. In the North the 
British gencraj, Burgoyne, was defeated in his 
expedition south from Canada; and finally was 
forced to comj)lete surrender. But Washing- 
ton's forces in New Jersey wei*e not so suc- 
cessful. In the battle of Brandywine, they 
were surrounded and defeated by the British 
under General Howe. As an immediate re- 
sult. Congress had to leave Philadelphia, 
which city was soon captured; and Washing- 
ton took up winter quarters in Valley Forge, 
about twenty miles away. 

The horrors of that winter have often been 
described and j)icture(l. The ill-clad men 
were sheltered only by hastily constructed 



88 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

barracks, and lacked the barest necessities of 
life. As they felled trees to build their huts, 
the snow often showed bloodstains from their 
unprotected feet. Sickness made its inroads. 
Washington reported to Congress: 

"No less than two thousand, eight hundred 
and ninety-eight men are now in camp unfit 
for duty, because they are barefoot and other- 
wise naked." For lack of blankets, "numbers 
have been obhged, and still are, to sit up all 
night by fires, instead of taking comfortable 
rest." He adds: "From my soul, I pity those 
miseries which it is neither in my power to 
relieve nor prevent." 

Then the harassed commander gives us an- 
other revealing glimpse of himself in this out- 
burst: "It adds not a little to my other dif- 
ficulties and distress, to find that much more 
is expected from me than is possible to be 
performed, and that, upon the ground of 
safety and policj^ I am obliged to conceal the 
true state of the army from public view, and 
thereby expose myself to detraction and 
calumny." 

This outburst of feeling was caused by the 
fact that a conspiracy had been under way for 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 89 

some time, known as the "Conway Cabal" to 
undermine him with Congress and the country 
at large, and cause his resignation as com- 
mander-in-chief, in favor of General Gates, 
the victor over Burgoyne at Saratoga. Gen- 
eral Gates's army had been reinforced at the 
expense of the southern army, and the latter 
left constantly exposed to a superior enemy — 
as Washington pointed out in a letter to 
Patrick Henry: 

"My own difficulties, in the course of the 
campaign, have been not a little increased by 
the extra aid of colonial troops which the 
gloomy prospect of our affairs in the North 
induced me to spare from this army. But it 
is to be hoped that all will yet end well. If 
the cause is advanced, indifferent is it to me 
where or in what quarter it happens'^ 

Washington Irving, the general's name-sake 
and greatest biographer, placed the last sen- 
tence, which we have italicized, in capital 
letters, saying, "It speaks the whole soul of 
Washington. Glory with him is a secondary 
consideration. Let those who win, wear the 
laurel — sufficient for him is the advancement 
of the cause." 



90 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

Yet he would have been less the great man, 
if his soul had not revolted at the injustice of 
his present position. 

While he remained all winter at Valley 
Forge sharing the hardships of his men and 
striving to preserve their morale, or fighting 
spirit, against the most tremendous odds, his 
enemies in the cabal were openly active 
against him. They called Gates to Yorktown, 
now the seat of Congress, as head of the War 
Board. Gates planned an expedition to Can- 
ada, without consulting Washington, and to 
add force to the covert insult, appointed La- 
fayette as conmiander of the expedition. The 
latter was still on Washington's personal 
staff, and did not want to go under such aus- 
pices. Washington, however, at once detached 
him and gave him full permission to go. 

Lafayette set out and went as far north as 
Albany, but the expedition collapsed before it 
was even launched; and the young jNIarquis 
was glad to hasten back to Washington's own 
command. 

Washington's only comment at this time is 
in a letter to another officer: "I shall say no 
more of the Canada expedition than that it is 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 91 

at an end. / never was made acquainted with 
a single circumstance relating to it" 

Although Washington was fully aware of 
the effort on the part of his enemies to drive 
him from command of the army, he never 
made any public mention of it, nor any appeal 
on his own behalf. 

For the present his whole task was to shield 
his army from want, and to preserve it as an 
army through the winter — the darkest winter 
that American liberty ever knew. His was a 
twofold burden, but his devoted men never 
guessed the half which related to him. 

On the approach of spring, Washington 
writes: "For some days past there has been 
little less than a famine in the camp. A part 
of the army has been a week without any kind 
of flesh, and the rest three or four days. 
Naked and starving as they are, we cannot 
enough admire the incomparable patience and 
fidelity of the soldiery, that they have not been, 
ere this, excited by their suffering to a general 
mutiny and desertion." 

Who but Washington could have held them 
together through this trying time? 



THE VAUYING FORTUNES OF WAR 

With the approach of spring affairs began 
to look up for the camp at Valley Forge. The 
commissary department was reorganized by 
Congress, and supphes began to arrive regu- 
larly. The foraging troops even surprised 
provision wagons intended for the British in 
Philadelphia, and diverted them to the place 
"where they would do the most good." 

Another volunteer from Europe arrived at 
this time in the person of Baron von Steuben, 
a seasoned officer who had sensed under Fred- 
erick the Great. He wrote a fine letter to 
Washington, saying: "The object of my great- 
est ambition is to render your country all the 
service in my power, and to deserve tlic title of 
a citizen of America by fighting for the cause 
of your liberty. I would say moreover," he 
added later, "were it not for the fear of offend- 

92 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 93 

ing your modesty, that Your Excellency is the 
only person under whom, after having served 
under the King of Prussia, I could wish to 
pursue an art to which I have wholly given 
myself up." 

As the baron was a fine drill-master he was 
of great service in training the troops ; but he 
must have been shocked when he first saw them 
in their winter camp. He afterwards declared 
that no army in Europe could have been kept 
together a single month under such conditions. 

The conspiracy against Washington himself, 
which had been working in Congress, also 
came to an end. Gates was sent back to the 
army of the North, with instructions to do 
nothing of importance without consulting 
Washington. Conway, the ringleader of the 
cabal, was dismissed from the army. In a 
word, the skies were brighter both for the 
commander and the country, than for months 
past. 

The next piece of good news was that France 
had made a formal treaty with America and 
had pledged her aid in the fight for freedom. 
Nothing could exceed the enthusiasm with 
which this news was received. It reached 



94 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

Valley Forge in a day in early INIay when the 
whole countryside had blossomed forth with 
new life. It seemed that the flowers were 
blooming and the trees bursting their buds in 
sympath}'^ with the joyous troops. A dress 
parade was held which was really a creditable 
affair, thanks to the zeal of von Steuben. 
Then came a thanksgiving service by the chap- 
lains of each regiment; then a salute of thirteen 
guns, amid cries of "Long live France! Huzza 
for the American States!" A banquet fol- 
lowed, with much toasting and speech-making. 

England, alarmed by this treaty, passed a 
Bill of Conciliation, offering to revise all tax- 
ation measures for the colonies; to grant 
pardon to the "rebels"; to appoint friendly 
commissioners, and so forth. But it was too 
late. Congi'ess would have none of it. Wash- 
ington and some ten of his generals held a 
council of war, just after that May-day fete, 
and resolved to fight it out to the one objective 
now dear to all their hearts — complete free- 
dom. 

With the approach of summer, the British 
evacuated Philadelphia, where they had been 
comfortably housed all winter. But their 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 95 

ease and inaction proved their undoing. As 
Franklin said: "The British have not taken 
Philadelphia, but Philadelphia has taken the 
British." With a force of about 20,000 men 
they had been kept at bay by an American 
force of half that number. England was so 
dissatisfied that she removed General Howe, 
and appointed Clinton as commander. His 
first action was to retreat back across New 
Jersey, toward New York. 

Washington at once set out in pursuit, 
reached his/ flank at Monmouth Court House, 
and attacked him. The attack came near 
ending in defeat for the American army, how- 
ever, owing to the retreat of one of his trusted 
generals, Lee. Washington rode up just in 
time to halt his flying columns. 

"What is the meaning of this, sir?" he cried, 
with an oath. 

It was one of those rare occasions when the 
commander lost his temper ; and eye-witnesses 
say that he was terrible to behold. But he 
speedily reformed the troops and turned the 
defeat into victory. Tliat he swore in his 
wrath is pretty well vouched for by history; 
and even his most careful biographers seem to 



96 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

tliiiik that a few "cuss-words" were justifia])le! 

During' tlie next few months, the American 
army f()u<iiit generally on the defensive, con- 
tenting itself witli keeping the IJritish army 
constantly on the alert. The French made 
good their promises by sending a fleet over to 
harass the British, but its first ventures brought 
no definite results. Still that it was in action 
and might at any moment strike the enemy 
ke})t up the spirits of the patriot army. 

One constant anxiety to Washington was 
the poor pay wliich his men received. Con- 
gress was not altogether to blame for this, as 
it as yet had no power to levy taxes. Each 
State still issued its own money and raised its 
own funds. But the paper money thus issued 
finally became so cheap that forty or fifty 
paper dollars were scarcely equal to one silver 
one. 

The soldiers often grew so discoiu-aged over 
this and insufficient rations that companies 
would threaten to quit in a body. It required 
all of Washington's di])lomacy to hold them in 
line. On one occasion when an expedition had 
been planned against the Indians of Central 
New York, to prevent their frequent raids and 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 97 

massacres, the chosen brigade quietly but 
firmly refused to march until they had received 
their pay. They offered as an excuse that 
theu' families were starving. Of course from 
a military point of view this was inexcusable, 
and they could have been court-martialed. 
But Washington laid aside discipline. He 
went among the men and talked to them "like 
a father," then went to the state legislature, 
and finally got the matter smoothed over. 

While some states made good in their 
quotas of men and money, others were very 
remiss. This made the planning of extended 
campaigns difficult. The British saw this 
weakness, and sent a portion of their army 
south by water to Savannah and Charleston; 
whence they speedily overran the southern 
tier of states. 

Washington thereupon petitioned Congress 
to remedy this defect by placing all military 
matters under the control of Congress, aided 
by a committee of staff officers. At first that 
body demurred, and their reasons are worth 
quoting: They did not desire to put so much 
power in a few hands, especially in those of 
the commander-in chief, feeling "that his in- 



98 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

fluence was already too great; that even his 
virtues afforded motives for alarm; that the 
enthusiasm of the army, joined to the kind of 
dictatorship already confided to him, put Con- 
gress and the United States at his mercy; 
that it was not expedient to expose a man of 
the higliest virtues to such temptations." 

Truly a hackhanded compliment, which 
while praising Washington showed the jeal- 
ousy existing because of his influence over his 
men! 

Another great general — Napoleon Bona- 
parte — did in fact make use of such a situation, 
at a little later date, to found an empire with 
himself as emperor. But Washington was 
not that kind of man. 

Not content with petitioning Congress, 
Washincrton also wrote many letters to the 
state bodies, and obtained some measures of 
relief. That his men were kept in the ranks 
at all during the third and fourth years of the 
war was due largely to his personal efforts. 

^Meanwhile his devoted friend Lafayette had 
returned to France, and thanks to his efforts a 
force of 5,000 men under Rochambeau was 
sent to America, reaching this country in the 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 99 

summer of 1780. A combined attack by 
French and American forces, by both land and 
sea, was contemplated, but had to be post- 
poned. The British were making a vigorous 
campaign in South Carolina and Georgia. 
And hard upon this came the treason of Bene- 
dict Arnold at West Point. 

The story of Arnold has been often told; 
his treachery struck Washington a keener 
blow than any other single event in the war. 
Arnold had been a brave soldier and one of 
Washington's most trusted generals. His 
conduct in the first years of the war had been 
markedly Brilliant. In one action he had been 
severely wounded in one leg. What motives 
led to his final treachery are not clearly known, 
beyond the fact that Congress had once repri- 
manded him for a petty misdemeanor, and 
also that he was in need of money to pay 
large personal debts; for he lived extrava- 
gantly. 

Washington entrusted to him the command 
of West Point. Arnold plotted to surrender 
this strong fort to the British for $50,000 in 
money and the rank of brigadier general in 
their army. Major John Andre was'cntrusted 



100 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

by the British with the final negotiations. At 
the last moment their plot miscarried, and 
Andre was captured by three militiamen at 
Tarrytown. Poor Andre suffered the fate of 
a spy and was executed. Arnold escaped to a 
British ship and took up arms against his 
country. He received a commission, as prom- 
ised, but he was execrated by the British no 
less than by those he would have betrayed. 
He became a man without a country. Once 
when talking to an American prisoner, he 
asked what would have been done to him, had 
he been captured. 

"They would have cut off the leg wounded 
in the service of your country, and buried it 
with the honors of war," was the reply. "But 
the rest of you they would have hanged." 

Washington's opportune arrival at West 
Point prevented any other ill results from 
Arnold's treason; but the commander himself 
was profoundly shaken by the tidings. Tak- 
ing Knox and Lafayette to one side, he placed 
in their hands the letter intercepted on Andre's 
person, from Arnold. 

"Whom can we trust now?" was his only 
comment. But it spoke volumes. 



XI 

THE SURRENDER AT YORKTOWN 

Fortunately for us all, the army did not 
bring out any more Benedict Arnolds. Wash- 
ington found that, although his men mur- 
mured at times over their hardships and poor 
pay, they could be trusted. One historic in- 
cident which occurred not long after proved 
this very forcibly. 

Some of General Wayne's men mutinied, 
because Congress had not paid them, as prom- 
ised. As one officer wrote Washington: 

"I will not pain you with further accounts 
of the wants and sufferings of this army. 
There is not a shilling in the pay chest, nor a 
prospect of any for months to come. This is 
really making bricks without straw." 

Wayne's men openly mutinied, and taking 
their guns marched out of camp. As we 
would say to-day, they "struck." Clinton, the 

101 



102 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

Britis'h general in New York, heard of it and 
sent agents to them promising food, clothing 
and pay in abundance if they would join his 
arm5^ The agents were promptly hung as 
spies. 

"We are not traitors to our country," they 
answered. 

Their curious brand of loyalty, while it 
might imperil one enterprise, was proof against 
treason. The men were dealt with firmly but 
kindly, and kept in the service. The pay chest, 
however, was empty most of the time. 

But better days were ahead for the Ameri- 
can arni}^ in this year of 1781. The first rift 
in the clouds occurred in the South. Corn" 
wallis had won a decisive victory at Camden, 
S. C, and thought that the war was over in 
that section, until a band of Carolina and 
Tennessee mountaineers trapped one of his 
ablest officers at King's Mountain and won 
a lively battle there. Cornwallis, alarmed, 
stayed more closely to the seaboard after this. 
He began a march northward through the 
Carolinas and Virginia, being continually 
hampered and annoyed by the patriot forces 
under Greene. They avoided general engage- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 103 

merits, but buzzed around the enemy like a 
swarm of angry hornets. CornwalHs was glad 
at last to reach Yorktown, Virginia, where he 
could be in touch, by sea, with the general 
headquarters in New York. He thought he 
had reached a haven of safety; but it proved a 
death-trap. 

Thanks to the efforts of Benjamin Franklin 
in France, and the brilliant example of Lafa- 
yette who was actively fighting on Washing- 
ton's staff, the French Government sent a fleet 
of twenty warships to America, and three 
thousand men. General Clinton, the British 
commander-in-chief in New York, was afraid 
of an attack upon that city, especially as 
Washington had made a great parade from 
the Jersey side. So Clinton, instead of send- 
ing men to Cornwallis, actually asked him for 
three regiments. 

But Washington and his French allies did 
not strike at New York. Instead they turned 
swiftly south and began a closing-in movement 
on Cornwallis at Yorktown. Too late the 
latter saw his danger ; but he was strongly en- 
trenched and he expected supplies and rein- 



104. FAMOUS AMERICANS 

forcements by water. He did not know that 
the French fleet was to the north of him. 

By the first of October the line of besiegers, 
nearl}^ two miles from the Yorktown forts, 
had thrown up a redoubt each end resting on 
the river and completely cutting off the British 
communication by land. The French ren- 
dered valuable aid by both land and sea. 

Washington personally directed these hem- 
ming-in operations, and was frequently in 
range of the enemy's guns. Once a shot 
struck close to his feet throwing up a cloud of 
dust. His chaplain who stood by was greatly 
alarmed for the leader's safety. Taking off 
his own hat and showing it covered with sand, 
he said, "See here, General!" 

"Mr. Evans," retorted Washington, smiling, 
"you had better carry that home, and show it 
to your wife and children." 

At another time an aide remonstrated with 
him for thus keeping in an exposed position. 
"It is dangerous, sir," he said. 

"If you think so," replied Washington, "you 
are at liberty to step back." 

Shortly afterwards another musket ball fell 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 105 

at his feet, and this time one of his generals 
grasping him by the arm tried forcibly to pull 
him back, exclaiming, "We can't spare you 
yet!" 

"It is a spent ball," replied the commander 
quietly. "No harm is done." 

When the enveloping movement around the 
town was completed and the outer forts actu- 
aUy seized, Washington at last stepped back 
out of gunshot. 

"The work is done, and well done!" he said 
with a sigh of relief. 

The words might have been prophetic of the 
whole war, now so soon to end. 

Shut off by land, Cornwallis sent urgent 
messages to Clinton for relief. The latter at 
last awoke to the seriousness of the situation 
and sent a fleet with seven thous«,nd men 
to the Virginia capes. But before he ar- 
rived there, he received word that Cornwallis 
had surrendered; and the relief army turned 
north again. Although Clinton did not real- 
ize it at the time, in trying to save New York 
he had lost America. 

So closely was Yorktown invested, that 
within ten days after the siege began, Corn- 



106 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

wallis surrendered. He sent out messengers 
under a flag of truce to arrange terms, and 
was allowed to march out of town with the 
honors of war. Washington elected not to 
receive the submission of the beaten army in 
person, but generously gave that honor to 
General Lincoln, whose own army had met 
defeat in Charleston, at the hands of Corn- 
wallis. An eye-witness has given us this 
graphic description of the ceremony: 

*'At about twelve o'clock the combined army 
was drawn up in two hnes more than a mile 
in length, the Americans on the right side of 
the road, the French on the left. Washington 
mounted on a noble steed, and attended by his 
staff, was in front of the former; the Count de 
Rochambeau and his suite, of the latter. The 
French troops in complete uniform and well 
equipped made a brilliant apj^earance, and had 
marched to the ground with a band of music 
playing, which was a novelty in the American 
service. The American troops but part in 
uniform and all in garments much the worse 
for wear, yet had a spirited, soldier-like air, 
and were not the worse in the eyes of their 
countrj^men for bearing the marks of hard 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 107 

service and great privations. The concourse 
of spectators from the country seemed equal 
in number to the mihtary, yet silence and 
order prevailed. 

"At two o'clock the garrison sallied forth, 
and passed through with shouldered arms, slow 
and solemn steps, colors cased, and drums 
beating a British march. They were all well 
clad, having been furnished with new suits 
prior to the capitulation. Thej^ were led by 
General O'Hara on horseback, who, riding up 
to General Washington, took off his hat and 
apologized for the non-appearance of Lord 
Cornwallis, on account of indisposition. 

"Washington received him with dignified 
courtesy, but pointed to Major-General Lin- 
coln as the officer who was to receive the 
submission of the garrison. By him they were 
conducted into a field where they were to 
ground their arms. In passing through the 
line formed by the allied army, their march 
was careless and irregular, and their aspect 
sullen, the order to 'ground arms' was given 
by their platoon officers with a tone of deep 
chagrin, and many of the soldiers threw down 
their muskets with a violence sufficient to 



108 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

break them. This irregularity was checked 
by General Lincoln; yet it was excusable in 
brave men in their unfortunate predicament. 
This ceremony over, they were conducted back 
to Yorktown, to remain under guard until re- 
moved to their places of destination." 

Another account states that the British 
marched out to the tune, "The World Turned 
Upside Down." It probably expressed the 
state of their feelings! 

The next morning Washington issued gen- 
eral orders praising both armies for their fine 
conduct. He pardoned and set at liberty all 
of his army who were under arrest. And he 
asked that services of thanksgiving be iheld 
and "that the troops not on duty should uni- 
versally attend, with seriousness of deport- 
ment and gratitude of heart." 

Cornwallis's "indisposition" which prevented 
him from surrendering his sword in person 
was not merely pique. The proud British 
peer was almost sick with humiliation and 
grief. But he wrote later in much apprecia- 
tion of the consideration shown him and his 
men by the allied troops. "The treatment, in 
general, that we have received from the enemy 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 109 

since our surrender has been perfectly good 
and proper." 

Cornwallis was not only spared the mortifi- 
cation of handmg over his sword in person ; he 
and his staff were entertained at dinner by 
Washington. At this meal, so the story goes, 
Rochambeau, being asked for a toast, gave 
"The United States." Washington gave "The 
King of France." Lord Cornwallis simply 
pledged "The King." But Washington, an- 
swering this toast, quickly added, "of Eng- 
land." Then said smilinglj^ "Confine him 
there, and I'll drink him a full bumper!" 

Cornwallis never forgot Washington's court- 
esy, and some years later when governor-gen- 
eral of India he sent a message to his old foe 
wishing "General Washington a long enjoy- 
ment of tranquillity and happiness," and add- 
ing that he himself "continued in troubled 
waters." 

Meanwhile, the rejoicings begun in the 
American camp had continued throughout 
the Union. 

"Cornwallis is taken! Cornwallis is taken!'* 
The word spread like wildfire. It was con- 
sidered the deathblow of the war. 



110 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

Congress was in a transport of joy. Two 
stands of colors were voted to Washington, 
and trophies to the French commanders, with 
the official thanks of the nation. 

Far different was the sensation aroused in 
England. Lord North, the prime minister, 
received the tidings "as he would have taken a 
musket hall in the breast," according to an 
eye-witness. "He opened his arms, exclaim- 
ing wildly as he paced up and down the 
apartment: 

"'Oh God! It is all over I'" 



XII 

THE ENI> OF ARMY LIFE 

Although the surrender of CornwalHs was 
the last great stroke of the war, several months 
passed by before it was actually ended. They 
were months filled with peril and anxiety for 
the commander-in-chief and his advisers. 

In the first place, the news of the great 
victory caused a great let-down among the 
states as to enlistments and pay; and in the 
second, Congress was still far behind with pay 
already promised and earned. But Congress, 
we must remember, was not much to blame, 
as it had as yet very little actual authority. 
'No Constitution had as yet been adopted. 

The army was in danger of dwindling away, 
with thousands of British soldiers still on 
American soil. So it was Washington's con- 
stant task to keep his men in line with one 

hand, so to speak, and Congress with the other. 

Ill 



112 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

He was our first great apostle of preparedness. 

"Even if the British nation and Parliament 
are really in earnest to obtain peace with 
America," he said, "it will undoubtedly be wis- 
dom in us to meet them with great caution, 
and by all means to keep our arms firm in our 
hands. No nation ever yet suffered in treaty 
by preparing, even in the moment of nego- 
tiation, most vigorously for the field." 

Just about this time we find him the recipi- 
ent of a very strange ofl^er. Some of his mili- 
tary officers, losing patience with Congress and 
realizing that a strong central power was 
needed, openly hinted that the comitry should 
have a limited monarchy, with Washington as 
king! When this suggestion reached him he 
lost his temper — another of the few historic oc- 
casions when it got away from him. The men 
who secretly visited him with the suggestion 
were roundly scolded. The general paced the 
room in a towering rage. 

"No occurrence in the course of the war has 
given me more painful sensations," he said. 
"I am at a loss to conceive what part of my 
conduct could have given encouragement to 
an address which to me seems big with the 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 118 

greatest mischiefs that can befall my country." 
And he ends: "Let me conjure you, then, if 
you have any regard for your country or re- 
spect for me, to banish these thoughts from 
your mind, and never communicate, as from 
yourself or any one else, a sentiment of the like 
nature." 

Compare Napoleon's course, at a later time 
when a similar temptation came to him, and 
he seized it to crown himself an emperor, — 
and ask yourself which was the greater man! 

Washington's wonderful control over his 
army was shown again and again, and never 
more so than in these closing months of the 
war when the country was stiU in chaos and 
confusion. Once when a portion of the army 
while in winter quarters at Newburgh, on the 
Hudson, was on the brink of mutiny against 
Congress, Washington was sent for in hot 
haste to quell the discontent. On reaching the 
camp an unsigned letter was thrust into his 
hand, stating the army's grievances. He re- 
plied to it at length, agreeing to the justice 
of its contentions, but also pointing out that 
the army was proceeding the wrong way in 
rectifying them. 



lU FAMOUS AMERICANS 

IMajor Shaw, who was present, has given us 
an account of this scene. He relates that 
Washington, after reading the first part of the 
letter, made a short pause, took out his spec- 
tacles and begged the indulgence of his au- 
dience while he put them on, observing at the 
same time that he had grown gray in their 
service, and now found himself growing blind., 

"There was something so natural, so un- 
affected in this appeal," adds Shaw, "as 
rendered it superior to the most studied or- 
atory. It forced its way to the heart, and 
you might see sensibility moisten eveiy eye." 

The articles of peace between the new na- 
tion and the old were not signed until Jan- 
uary 20, 1783 — nearly eight years after the 
Battle of Lexington. News traveled slowly 
in those days, and it was not until April that 
Congress in Philadelphia and the British com- 
mander in New York ordered a cessation of 
hostilities by sea and land. Before the formal 
notice could be carried into effect, Washington 
gave many furloughs to his war-worn men. 
They were sent singly or in small groups to 
their homes, on an indefinite leave of absence. 
This was not only kindness to the men, it re- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 115 

lieved the countrj^ from a great danger, of 
disbanding large masses of unpaid soldiery at 
once. 

Says Irving: "Now and then were to be seen 
three or four in a group, bound probably to 
the same neighborhood, beguiling the way with 
camp jokes and camp stories. The war-worn 
soldier was always kindly received at the farm- 
houses along the road, where he might shoulder 
his gun and fight over his battles. The men 
thus dismissed on furlough were never called 
upon to rejoin the army. Once at home they 
sank into domestic life; their weapons were 
hung up over their tire-places, military tro- 
phies of the Revolution to be prized by future 
generations." 

The commander himself had the same feel- 
ings as his men, when he thought of home. 
Mount Vernon had been very dear to him, but 
for eight long years he had been an exile from 
its friendly roof. In a general letter to the 
governors of the various states, upon the break- 
ing up of the army, he says : 

"The great object for which I had the honor 
to hold an appointment in the service of my 
country being accomplished, I am now pre- 



116 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

paring to return to that domestic retirement 
which, it is well known, I left with the greatest 
reluctance ; a retirement for which I have never 
ceased to sigh, through a long and painful 
absence, and in which (remote from the noise 
and trouble of the world) I meditate to pass 
the remainder of life in a state of undisturbed 
repose." 

Nothing could be freer from personal am- 
bition than such a desire — but Destiny was by 
no means through with this her chosen vessel! 

It was not until October that the army 
absent on leave was formally discharged. The 
British completed the evacuation of New York 
in November, and Washington with the re- 
mainder of his forces marched in. On Decem- 
ber 4, he assembled his officers at Fraunces' 
Tavern, and bade farewell to them. As he 
saw himself surrounded by his comrades in 
arms who had shared his perils and privations, 
he was so overcome with emotion that for a 
few moments he could not speak. When he 
had obtained self-control he said : 

"With a heart full of love and gratitude, 
I now take leave of you, most devoutly wish- 
ing that your latter days may be as pros- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 117 

perous and happy as your former ones have 
been glorious and honorable.'* Then he added 
with emotion: "I cannot come to each of you 
to take my leave, but shall be obliged if each 
of you will come and take me by the hand." 
A few moments later a ferry took him from 
the city, and he proceeded to Congress to 
tender his formal resignation. He received 
the thanks of that body and at last turned his 
face toward Mount Vernon. General Wash- 
ington, the commander, had become George 
Washington, the private citizen. 



XIII 

WASHINGTON TRIES UNSUCCESSFULLY TO 
REMAIN A PRIVATE CITIZEN 

Washington reached home in the dead of 
winter. The roads were blocked with snow. 
But once by his roaring fireside, he welcomed 
the shut-in days. They gave him just the 
chance he needed to rest and take mental 
stock of himself. 

"Strange as it may seem," he wrote to 
General Knox, "it is nevertheless true that it 
was not until very lately I could get the better 
of my usual custom of ruminating as soon as 
I wake in the morning, on the business of the 
ensuing day; and of my surprise at finding, 
after revolving many things in my mind, that 
I was no longer a public man, nor had any- 
thing to do v/ith public transactions." 

Mrs. Washington completes the picture of 
his domestic comfort, as she sat on the opposite 
side of the fire always knitting, in the early 

118 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 119 

evening hours. She had become an inveterate 
knitter during the war, making socks for the 
soldiers, and doubtless inspiring the making 
of many others, by her example. What a 
tower of strength she would have been to the 
Red Cross of later wars! 

One of the first invited guests to Mount 
Vernon was Lafayette, between whom and 
Washington a constant bond of affection had 
been maintained. While there, Lafayette 
went to Fredericksburg to pay his respects to 
Washington's aged mother. As he spoke in 
eloquent praise of the man he so loved and 
honored, Mary Washington responded quietly, 
"I am not surprised at what George has done, 
for he was always a good boy." 

Simple tribute of a devoted mother heart! 
Mary Washington lived on a few years longer 
— until 1789 — to see her son receive the highest 
gifts in the power of a new and grateful 
nation. 

Meanwhile in the present year of 1784, he 
was finding it more and more difficult to re- 
main the simple private citizen. As the roads 
cleared up, with the advent of spring, visitors 
of all sorts flocked to Mount Vernon. Some 



120 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

had business, or fancied they had, while others 
came out of curiosity to see the most-talked-of 
man in America. By person and by letter his 
opinions were sought. Letters came to him 
from all over the world, and he was hard put 
to it to answer them. Here was one from the 
King and Queen of France inviting him to 
visit their country as their guest. Here, a 
plea for advice as to the best way to reclaim 
public lands, or to ci\'ilize the Indians. Here, 
a request that he would stand godfather to 
a child that was to be named for him — the 
first of countless children white, black, and 
yellow who were to be called George Wash- 
ington ! 

As he tried to keep pace with the daily de- 
mands upon him, he came to reahze with a 
start the great change that the war had made 
in him. He had entered it a Virginian; he 
came out of it an American. As he studied 
the problem during those first snowbound days 
at home, he saw that the only hope of the 
country lay — not in separate state control — 
but in a union of states. He began to write 
letters advocating this plan to each of the 
states — and he kept it up. He pointed out 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 121 

that the thirteen states could never make any 
headway pulling and hauling against each 
other. As a single example of the need for 
united action, there was the western frontier, 
held by Indians, English, with the Spanish 
in the South — all jealous of the new nation 
and ready to make trouble. 

He pleaded for a central government with 
what he called "a federal head." His former 
soldiers already knew his sentiments along 
these lines; for had they not watched him 
battle for their interests with a patriotic but 
impotent Congress? So as the subject be- 
came one of general debate these old veterans 
would nod their heads sagely and remark : 

"Yes, that's what General Washington 
thinks about it — and he ought to know!" 

But new ideas move slowly; and although 
Washington was not alone in this thought, 
other public men adding their voice to it, two 
years and more went by, before the project 
began to take shape. The governors were re- 
luctant to yield their powers to a scheme they 
did not understand. One convention was 
called to meet in Annapohs, in 1786, but fell 
through. Then at last a meeting was called 



122 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

successfully at Philadelphia, in May, 1787. 
It was known as the Federal Convention. Its 
purpose was to provide a working plan by 
which the states could retain their separate 
power, and yet work together. Nobody had 
ever heard of such a scheme, and of course 
many were skeptical. 

The convention brought together some able 
men, the tried and true of the Revolution. 
There was old Benjamin Franklin of Penn- 
sylvania, a patriarch universally esteemed; 
John Adams and his cousin Samuel of Mass- 
achusetts; Alexander Hamilton, who had 
served brilliantly on Washington's staff, and 
was to display unusual ability in statecraft; 
Thomas Jefferson, his great political rival ; and 
many another. It has been said that no 
revolution ever produced so many notable men 
as this of America. But by common consent, 
Washington was the ablest man of them all. 
He was unanimously chosen president of the 
convention. 

The result is a matter of history — the writ- 
ing of the Constitution of the United States, 
an unique document in the history of the 
world, with its lofty preamble : 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 123 

"We, the People of the United States, in 
order to form a more perfect Union, esLablish 
Justice, insure domestic Tranquillity, provide 
for the common defense, promote the general 
Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty 
to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and 
establish this Constitution for the United 
States of America." 

But *'the People of the United States" did 
not accept this strange new document all to- 
gether or all at once. It required several 
months more of separate arguing and persuad- 
ing before the required number of states — at 
least nine — entered into this joint agreement 
and made it binding. And there is no doubt 
that the first name signed to it, that of George 
Washington, did much to convince the people 
that it was probably the best document that 
could be produced as chart and compass for 
the new Ship of State. 

When Washington as presiding officer took 
up his pen to sign the Constitution, it is said 
that he remarked slowly and solemnly: 
"Should the States reject this excellent Consti- 
tution, the probability is that an opportunity 



124 FAMOUS AJVIERICANS 

will never again be offered to cancel another in 
peace; the next will be drawn in blood." 

What he must have meant was that without 
such a safeguard the states would soon be 
torn by internal dissensions and would fall 
an easy prey to the next foreign power who 
might undertake a conquest. 

On September 13, 1788, Congress gave 
notice that the Constitution had been ratified 
by a sufficient number of states, and that an 
election would be held in the succeeding Jan- 
uary for a President of the United States, to 
take office on the first Wednesday in March, in 
the new seat of government, the city of New 
York. 

Then came the all-important task of choos- 
ing the first President — but this proved not 
nearly so difficult as adopting the Constitution 
itself. Only one man seemed the logical 
candidate — the man who had led the troops 
through the long years of the Revolution and 
kept them together until final victory; the 
man who had been "father" to the Consti- 
tution. It could be none other than George 
Washington. Hamilton, who first called him 
the father of the Constitution, told liim that 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 125 

the whole country wanted him, and that it was 
his duty to accept the call. 

"But I do not desire the office," protested 
Washington, honestly. "Let those who wish 
such things as office or leadership be at the 
head of things. All I desire now is to settle 
down at Mount Vernon and live and die an 
honest man on my own farm." 

To Lafayette and others of his friends he 
expressed himself in the same fashion. It 
was with "unfeigned reluctance" that he 
viewed the possibility of his election, and noth- 
ing but a sense of duty which inclined him to 
accept. Washington was in fact fifty-seven 
years of age. At least half his life had been 
"in the saddle" for public affairs. He had 
just passed through one of the most gruel- 
ling experiences that had ever fallen to the 
lot of man. He knew also that the Chief 
Executive of a brand new nation would have 
his hands filled to overflowing. Add to this 
his deep love for his own home, and we can 
well see that he was sincere in his desire to 
avoid this new honor. 

But Washington was never a man to shirk 
a plain duty; and when the January elections 



126 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

showed him to be the overwhehning (Choice of 
the whole country, — every one of the sixty- 
nine electoral votes having been cast for him 
— he put his own ease and quiet aside again. 
George Washington, private citizen, ordered 
his horse saddled, and rode away from Mount 
Vernon, back into public life to become Pres- 
ident Washington. 



XIV 

PRESIDENT WASHINGTON 

An entry in Washington's diary dated April 
16 reads: "About ten o'clock I bade adieu to 
Mount Vernon, to private life, and to domestic 
felicity ; and with a mind oppressed with more 
anxious and painful sensations than I have 
words to express, set out for New York with 
the best disposition to render service to my 
country, in obedience to its call, but with less 
hope of answering its expectations." 

But if Washington had misgivings as to his 
ability to fill the high position, his fellow citi- 
zens did not share his anxiety. His journey 
to New York was a triumphal progress. The 
ringing of bells and the salutes of cannon pro- 
claimed his course throughout the country. 
Old and young came out to meet him and wish 
him Godspeed; children strewed flowers in his 
horse's path. Over the bridge crossing the 

127 



128 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

river at Trenton — the same stream that he had 
braved in an open boat during the storm of 
a winter's night — an arch of laurel and ever- 
green had been erected with the words: 

"The defender of the mothers will be the 
protector of the daughters." 

A military parade was formed for his en- 
trance into Philadelphia, and a superb white 
horse was led out for him to mount. As he 
passed through the garlanded streets w^hile 
people waved and cheered themselves hoarse, 
he must have remembered the time only a few 
short months before when he and his little 
army huddled together like culprits at Valley 
Forge, while the enemy held these same streets 
and houses. 

Washington had requested that his entry 
into New York be quiet — but again his pref- 
erences were overruled. The overjoyed coun- 
tiy just had to celebrate. A committee from 
both Houses of Congress met him at Eliza- 
bethtown Point where a splendid barge awaited 
to convey him by water to the city. As 
his barge passed on up into New York 
harbor other boats fell in line, forming a 
nautical parade. Many of these boats were 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 129 

decorated, and there were singers or bands of 
music aboard. The vessels in the harbor, 
gayly dressed, fired salutes as the presidential 
barge passed by. One alone, a Spanish man- 
of-war, remained silent and bare of ornament, 
until just as the barge came abreast, when as 
if by magic the yards were manned, and the 
ship burst forth, as it were, into a full array 
of flags, while it thundered a salute of thirteen 
guns. 

From the landing at the Battery carpets 
were spread to a carriage that was to convey 
him to his official residence; but he preferred 
to walk. Attended by a parade of citizens 
and soldiers he passed through cheering lanes 
of people and along streets literally smothered 
in flowers and bunting. Never had the city 
witnessed such a scene. 

His triumphal entry, however, did not fill 
him with pride. Instead, it gave him later 
moments of anxious thought, as he confided to 
his faithful diary. 

"I must not fail my people now!" was the 
burden of his prayer. 

The public inauguration took place on the 
30th day of April, 1789. At nine o'clock in 



130 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

the morning religious services were held in all 
the churches, Old Trinity at the head of Wall 
Street having an especially noteworthy serv- 
ice. At twelve o'clock the troops paraded 
before Washington's door, and were soon fol- 
lowed by the committees from Congress and 
other public officials. The procession then 
moved forward escorting Washington, who 
rode in a coach of state, to the Senate Build- 
ing. This stately structure which occupied 
the spot where the Sub-Treasury now stands, 
had a series of lofty columns supporting the 
roof, and a balcony forming a kind of open 
recess. In this balcony within full view of 
the street Washington took the oath of office 
as first President of the United States. 

Chancellor Livingston administered the oath 
of office, and Washington stooping kissed the 
open Bible which he held in his hand. "This 
was the man," says Thomas W. Higginson, 
"whose generalship, whose patience, whose self- 
denial, had achieved and then preserved the 
liberties of the nation; the man who, greater 
than Cgesar, had held a kingly crown within 
reach, and had refused it." 

After repeating the oath of office and kiss- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 131 

ing the Bible reverently, Washington added 
in a low, cleai voice which yet carried to the 
first ranks of the throng: 

"I swear — so help me God!" 

Then the Chancellor stepped forward, 
waved his hand, and exclaimed : 

"Long live George Washington, President 
of the United States !" 

At this moment a flag was run up to the 
tower, and at the signal every bell in the city 
rang; while the guns at the Battery fired a 
presidential salute. The new nation was 
born indeed, now that it had a responsible 
head. 

After delivering his inaugural address to 
Congress, he proceeded with the whole assem- 
blage to St. Paul's Church, where prayers 
were read for the safety and success of the 
new .Q-overnment. 

All that day the city continued to rejoice, 
and at night there were brilliant illuminations 
and fireworks. But in the privacy of his own 
room, Washington the man pondered over the 
outlook with anxious brow. The praise and 
festivities only made him realize his vast re- 
sponsibilities. 



132 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

"I greatly fear," he writes, "that my coun- 
trymen will expect too much from me." 

His "fear," however, was not of the craven 
kind that deserts a duty. With him it was a 
trum])et call to battle. 

The position to which he was elected did in- 
deed bristle with difficulties. There was a 
huge debt on behalf of the army to be paid 
off; alliances to be perfected with other coun- 
tries; the frontiers to be established; and the 
complete organization of government to be 
effected. 

"I walk, as it were, on untrodden ground," 
he writes to a friend. "So many untoward 
circumstances may intervene, that I shall feel 
an insuperable diffidence in my own abilities. 
I stand in need of the aid of every friend to 
myself, of every lover of good government." 

At the outset he had but four Departments 
— State, Treasury, War, and Law. The first 
dealt, as it deals to-day, with foreign affairs; 
the second with money matters; the third with 
military affairs ; and the fourth with the law of 
the land. John Adams had been elected Vice 
President; and Washington had beside him 
other advisers such as John Jay, Alexander 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 133 

Hamilton, James Madison, General Knox, 
and Thomas Jefferson. Jefferson was made 
Secretary of State, and Hamilton, Secretary 
of the Treasury. 

These two appointments were most inter- 
estinsT, as the men themselves were intense 
political rivals, Jefferson being an advocate of 
the government by separate states, or "states' 
rights," and Hamilton of a strong central or 
"federal" government. From their opinions 
the first two great political parties were born 
— the Federalists and the Anti-Federalists. 

Washington, while a Federalist, did not 
allow party considerations to influence him, as 
is shown by his appointing these two men to 
the most important positions in his cabinet. 

Soon after his taking office, Mrs. Washing- 
ton joined her husband in New York; and it 
is pleasant to note that many honors were 
shown her also, as her carriage was driven 
northward. The same barge conveyed her on 
the last stage of the journey, as had brought 
the President-elect, and she was given a 
presidential salute by the Battery cannons. 

She and the President soon inaugurated a 
series of weekly receptions, held every Friday, 



134 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

"to which the families of all persons of re- 
spectability" (as Irving says) "native or for- 
eign, had access, without special invitation; 
and at which the President was always pres- 
ent." 

His first official residence was at the junc- 
tion of Pearl and Cherry streets, Franklin 
Square. At the end of about a year he re- 
moved to a mansion on the west side of Broad- 
way, near Rector Street. Both these build- 
ings have long since passed away before the 
march of improvement. The only down-town 
buildings which remain to us from that historic 
time are Fraunces' Tavern, where he bade his 
troops farewell, and the old churches. Trinity 
and St. Paul's. In the latter Washington's 
pew is still pointed out. 

One of the little annoyances which threat- 
ened Washington's peace of mind at this time, 
was the desire on the part of some people to 
give him a high-sounding title, such as "His 
Highness, the President." He felt that such 
titles savored of royalty. "A grand name is 
of no value," he said, "if the man who bears it 
is not worthy or noble, or one who tries so to 
live and act that the title shall really be suited 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 135 

to him." He was pleased, therefore, when it 
was officially decided to address him simply as 
"the President of the United States," or "Mr. 
President" — and these designations have re- 
mained unchanged from that day to this. 

Of all the turmoils and troubles of that first 
presidential term there is not room here to 
speak. There were plenty of them both with- 
out and within. The whole world looked 
critically at this new experiment in govern- 
ment, and most of the old-world monarchies 
with distrust. For people to elect their own 
ruler and manage their own destinies was al- 
most an unheard-of thing. The monarchies 
would all have breathed easier, if the new re- 
public had failed after a few months' trial. 

But it did not fail, thanks to the steady hand 
of Washington. And presently another coun- 
try, inspired by our example, tried to set up a 
republic. Poor, downtrodden France began 
a revolution which over-turned its government, 
slew its rulers, and was not to end until seas of 
blood had been shed. Lafayette had gone 
back to France and was one of the prime- 
movers of this revolution in its opening 
months ; but he did not countenance the blood- 



136 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

shed of its darker days. In fact, he came near 
losing his own life at the hands of the fickle 
mob. As this revolution continued it became 
a serious menace and embarrassment to Amer- 
ica, as we shall see. 

Meanwhile, Washington was not without 
his critics at home. For want of better things 
to criticize, they disparaged his official recep- 
tions and JMrs. Washington's "queenly draw- 
ing rooms." They said that the President 
was formal and distant, and that there was too 
much pomp and display. Others hinted that 
the presidency was only a stepping-stone to a 
monarchy, and that the wool was being pulled 
over the eyes of the people. 

Such foolish slurs as this were only the least 
of Washington's troubles; such big national 
questions as the public debt, the establishment 
of a national bank, and the quelling of Indian 
disturbances, w^ere continually demanding at- 
tention. 

In the midst of all this pressure of public 
business, Washington's term of office expired. 
He had been elected — as all succeeding chief 
executives have been elected under the Consti- 
tution — for a period of four years. Even 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 137 

those who did not agree with him and had cast 
slurs at him behind his back did not think that 
it was wise to make a change. So he was 
again elected President — without one dissent- 
ing vote being cast against him ! 

While he expressed himself as gratified by 
this vote of confidence, it only caused him to 
redouble his efforts. But privately he viewed 
the next four years with misgiving; and he be- 
gan to yearn more and more for the peaceful 
life of Mount Vernon. If those who accused 
him of wanting to be king could only have seen 
his private letters at this time, they would have 
realized how sadly they misjudged him. 

One little circumstance shows how jealous 
his critics were. Just after his reelection and 
before he had again taken the oath of office, 
his birthday came around. Many of the mem- 
bers of Congress, then in session, wished to 
pay their respects to him, and a motion was 
made to adjourn for half an hour, for that 
purpose. But it met with opposition as being 
a species of homage to Washington; it was 
setting up a popular idol that was dangerous 
to liberty! 

If these petty politicians had been able to 



138 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

look ahead for a very few years, and see not 
merely a half -hour but a wliole day set aside 
each year for Washington; if they had been 
able to vision the magnificent new capital city 
which was to bear his name, or even the im- 
posing shaft of stone over five hundred feet 
high pointing its impressive finger toward 
heaven — might they not have felt a little 
"small" for having begrudged half an hour to 
Washington while he was yet alive? 

Just about the time that Washington en- 
tered upon his second term, in 1793. events in 
France began to happen thick and fast. The 
king and queen were executed. Lafayette 
and some of the moderate faction had to flee 
for their own lives. The Reign of Terror — as 
the darkest days of the revolution were called 
— had begun. And, as if the unliappy coun- 
try had hot misery enough, war was declared 
upon England. 

JMany in America, their hearts warm for 
France, our own late ally, were for joining 
in this war. But cooler counsel prevailed. 
Washington at once saw that it would be little 
less than suicidal for our country to be em- 
broiled. We were too young and weak. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 139 

"It behooves the government of this coun- 
try," said he, "to use every means in its power 
to prevent the citizens thereof from embroil- 
ing us with either of those powers, by endeav- 
oring to maintain a strict neutrahty." 

This was both common-sense and prudence. 
Further, it was pointed out by Hamilton and 
others that the France of that moment was 
little better than an anarchy, its leaders' hands 
stained with blood, and the guillotine even 
then taking its daily toll of innocent victims. 

But public opinion is a curious thing some- 
times ; and Washington was violently criticized 
for his "ingratitude" to France, and even ac- 
cused of subserviency to England. 

Matters came to a climax when France sent 
over a minister, Genet, to represent her in 
America. Instead of landing in New York 
or Philadelphia, Genet chose to land at 
Charleston, South Carolina. Before calling 
upon Washington and presenting his creden- 
tials, he enlisted volunteers for his ships of 
war, or privateers, as they were called ; and he 
made a sort of royal progress northward, stir- 
ring up a lot of enthusiasm as he came for 



140 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

"France our ally." People flocked to the 
support of France, and openly reviled Wash- 
ington for standing aloof. 

Despite this discourtesy on Genet's part, 
Washington received him courteously, when 
he did make his presence known; and while 
expressing every sympathy for France, he 
pointed out to the French delegate the unwis- 
dom of his present conduct. 

Genet, however, did not take the hint. He 
relied upon the people's approval, as shown 
him by his tour northward, and went ahead 
with fitting up privateers in our ports, desj^ite 
the President's proclamation of neutrality. 
When one of these illegal vessels was seized, 
he even flew into a rage and called upon Jef- 
ferson, the Secretary of State, breathing 
vengeance. He ended by declaring that if the 
President continued to thwart him, he would 
appear before Congress! 

Jefferson heard him patiently, and said that 
such a request could not be carried before 
them, nor would they take any notice of it. 

"But is not your Congress the sovereign 
power?" asked Genet in surprise. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 141 

"No," replied Jefferson, "they are sovereign 
only in making laws; the executive is the sov- 
ereign in executing them." 

"But, at least," cried Genet, "Congress is 
bound to see that the treaties are observed." 

"No," said Jefferson, "that is the Presi- 
dent's task." 

"But if he decides against the treaty," de- 
manded Genet, "to whom is a nation to ap- 
peal?" 

"The Constitution has made the President 
the last appeal," responded Jefferson. 

Genet shrugged his shoulders and had the 
effrontery to remark: "I would not compliment 
Mr. Jefferson on such a Constitution!" 

This foreigner had taken an attitude of 
open defiance against our President, gaining 
courage because of the popular support he had 
received. Newspapers of the day took it up, 
and some scurrilous articles and pictures were 
printed against Washington. 

Nothing swerved him from his policy of 
strict neutrality. "I have consolation within," 
said he, "that no earthly effort can deprive me 
of, and that is, that neither ambitious nor in- 
terested motives have influenced my conduct." 



142 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

Genet continued to be a thorn in his side for 
some time to come, and narrowly escaped in- 
volving America in war with both France and 
England. He was finally recalled at this 
countrj^'s request, and Washington and his 
Cabinet, as well as every far-seeing citizen, 
breathed more freely. 

It is pleasant to note in this connection that 
when the Reign of Terror finally came to an 
end in France, and a more stable govermnent 
was set up, their own ministers were among 
the first to recognize the wisdom of our course, 
and to welcome our next minister to them, 
James Monroe, with lively cordiality. 

Another perplexing issue in the closing half 
of Washington's second term was the ratifica- 
tion of a proper treaty with England. John 
Jay had been sent over as a special envoy to 
this end, and had finally cleared up all the ex- 
isting disputes between the two countries, in 
this new treaty. It was far from perfect, he 
himself admitted when he forwarded it to 
Washington; but it was "the best that could 
be procured." 

Washington himself saw its weak points, 
but felt that any document in the present crisis 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 143 

was better than none, and so sent it on to the 
Senate. That body ratified the treaty with 
the exception of one article. When the treaty 
was finally given out, the opposition press and 
party raised a great hue-and-cry about it. In 
New York a copy was burned before the 
governor's house. In Philadelphia it was sus- 
pended on a pole, carried about the streets, 
and finally burnt in front of the British 
minister's house, amid shouts and cheers. In 
Boston a public meeting was held, and an ad- 
dress sent to Washington. His reply is worth 
noting: 

"In every act of my administration I have 
sought the happiness of my fellow-citizens. 
My system for the attainment of this object 
has uniformly been to overlook all personal, 
local, and partial considerations; to contem- 
plate the United States as one great whole/' 

The italics are our own. They show the 
broad vision of Washington in the very first 
years of our nation's history — when state was 
still jealous of state, and section of section. 
He anticipated the immortal words of Web- 
ster: "Liberty and Union, one and inseparable, 
now and forever!" 



144 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

As the time for a third presidential election 
approached, Washington's friends besought 
him to stand again for office. But this time 
he was adamant. He felt that two terms of 
office were enough, for any one citizen, and he 
thus established a precedent that has not since 
been overturned. Furthermore, he felt him- 
self growing old. He wrote to his old com- 
panion-in-arms, General Knox: "To the wea- 
ried traveler who sees a resting-i^lace, and is 
bending his body to lean thereon, I now com- 
pare myself." 

John Adams, who had been his Vice Presi- 
dent, was chosen to succeed him; Thomas 
Jefferson, his Secretary of State, Vice Presi- 
dent. Washington was well content; and 
after giving his memorable Farewell Address 
and attending the new inauguration ceremo- 
nies, he turned his steps once more toward 
home and private life. 



XV 

AT HOME AGAIN 

On his way back to Mount Vernon Wash- 
ington and his little party received many flat- 
tering attentions, which he strove to avoid. 
He was honestly tired of the round of public 
festivities and honors. He regarded himself 
now as only a private citizen returning to his 
own home. 

When he reached there he found plenty to 
do in the farm life that was so congenial to him. 
During his last absence of eight years the place 
had run down sadly. 

"I find myself in the situation of a new be- 
ginner," he saj^s. "Almost everything re- 
quires repairs. I am surrounded by joiners, 
masons, and painters, and such is my anxiety 
to be out of their hands, that I have scarcely a 
room to put a friend into, or to sit in myself, 

145 



146 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

without the music of hammers or smell of 
paint." 

He writes to another friend: "To make and 
sell a little flour, to repair houses going fast to 
ruin, to build one for my papers of a public 
nature, and to amuse myself in agricultural 
pursuits, will be employment enough for my 
few remaining years." 

So he mended and built and farmed, and as 
he worked the old peace and quiet v/liich he 
had courted years before came back to him. 
At times the shock of war and the pressure of 
official life must have seemed to him like a 
dream, and only Washington the farmer, the 
real man. But reminders of his past life con- 
stantly cropped up in the shape of visitors. 
The hospitable doors of Mount Vernon con- 
stantly swung open, and hardly a day went by 
without some caller. After his daily horse- 
back ride around the plantation and active 
oversight of its details, he had barely time to 
dress for dinner — "at which," he writes, "I 
rarely miss seeing strange faces, come, as 
they say, out of respect to me. Pray would 
not the word curiosity answer as well?" 

He mentions whimsically, in this same letter, 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 147 

a round of duties w^hich begin at sun-up and 
bring him to candle-light; "previous to which, 
if not prevented by company, I resolve that I 
will retire to my writing table and acknowl- 
edge the letters I have received. But when 
the lights are brought I feel tired and disin- 
clined to engage in this work, conceiving that 
the next night will do as well. The next night 
comes, and with it the same causes for post- 
ponement — and so on. 

"Having given you the history of a day, it 
will serve for a year, and I am persuaded you 
will not require a second edition of it. But 
it may strike you that in this detail no mention 
is made of any portion of time allotted for 
reading. The remark would be just, for I 
have not looked into a book since I came 
home; nor shall I be able to do it until I have 
discharged my workmen; probably not before 
the nig^hts grow longer, when possibly I may 
be looking in Doomsday Book." 

In his solitary rides around Mount Vernon, 
he could not help but think of the many 
changes which had come upon it, since first he 
went there as a young man — ^the loss of his 
brother, and later of his stepson and daughter. 



148 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

whom he had come to love as his own. Both 
of the Custis children had died young. Then 
his old friend, Lord Fairfax, had passed away, 
an ardent Tory to the last. It was said that 
the shock of Cornwallis's surrender was too 
much for him, for he was quite an old man. 

"Put me to hed, Joe," he said to his old 
colored servant. "I guess I have lived too 
long." 

Yet his pride and affection for George 
Washington never ceased, and Washington 
on his part never wavered in his regard for the 
old nobleman or the younger Fairfax with 
whom he had gone surveying nearly half a 
century before. Now the Fairfax home, Bel- 
voir, was in ashes. 

In a letter to INIrs. Fairfax, in England, he 
writes: "It is a matter of sore regret when I 
cast my eyes toward Belvoir, which I often do, 
to reflect that the former inhabitants of it, 
with whom we lived in such harmony and 
friendship, no longer reside there, and the ruins 
only can be viewed as the mementoes of former 
pleasures." 

But Washington was not allowed to give 
way to moodiness, even if he had been so dis- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 149 

posed. Mrs. Washington's two grandchil- 
dren, Nelly and George Custis made their 
home at Mount Vernon. They were now 
grown and therefore interested in the social 
life of the neighborhood. The halls soon re- 
sounded with music, laughter, and the tripping 
of the stately minuet. 

Nelly Custis was a lovely and attractive 
girl whose flash of wit and saucy repartee 
were a constant delight to the General. 
Frequently he would forget his dignity and 
reserve, and indulge in a hearty laugh. But 
her love affairs gave him no little concern, and 
we find him writing pages of sound advice to 
her on the subject, on one of his short visits 
away from home. 

The young lady herself often became 
wearied with her callers, and sought to escape 
them by lonely rambles through the woods. 
Her grandmother thought this unsafe, and for- 
bade her to wander around thus alone. But, 
one evening, she was again missing, and when 
she finally reached home she found the General 
walking up and down the drawing room with 
his hands behind his back; while her grand- 
mother was seated in her great armchair. 



150 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

Mrs. Washington read her a sharp lecture, as 
the young culprit herself confessed in later 
years. She knew she had done wrong, so es- 
sayed no excuse; and when there was a slight 
pause she left the room somewhat crestfallen. 
But just as she was shutting the door she over- 
heard Washington in a low voice interceding 
in her behalf. 

"My dear, I would say no more — perhaps 
she was not alone." 

Nelly turned in her tracks and reentered 
the room. 

"Sir," she said, "j^ou brought me up to speak 
the truth, and when I told grandmamma I 
was alone, I hope you believed I was alone/* 

Washington made one of his courtliest bows. 
"My child, I beg your pardon," he said. 

The quiet pleasures of home life, however, 
were again rudely disturbed by political events. 
Affairs with France were once more approach- 
ing a crisis. 

One of the most unpopular acts of Wash- 
ington's administration, we remember, was 
his stand against France in her war with Eng- 
land. This move had cost him a great deal of 
popularity, as the rank and file of the people 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 151 

felt very justly that America owed France 
a huge debt. 

The Fren(ih were shrewd enough to see that 
^Washington's stand had been unpopular. 
They reasoned that the American people 
would side with them against their govern- 
ment, and even start another Revolution. So 
early in President Adams's administration they 
began to make trouble. They made demands 
upon America which were like thinly-veiled 
insults. They seemed to look upon this coun- 
try as a sort of vassal of France, and were 
unceasing in their strictures. 

The situation grew so intolerable that 
Adams convened a special session of Con- 
gress, and then appointed three envoys to go 
to France and draw up a treaty that would be 
satisfactory to both sides. The envoys very 
soon found out that the Directory, as the 
French governing head was then called, cared 
not a whit about America's friendship, or 
trade, or their mutual interests. All they 
wanted was money. In other words, peace 
with France could be secured only by the pay- 
ing of tribute by us. 

When our envoys tried to bring up the ques- 



152 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

tion of a treaty, their secret agent calmly said: 
"Gentlemen, you mistake the point. You say 
nothing of the money you are to give — you 
make no offer of money — on that point you are 
not explicit." 

"We are explicit enough," retorted one of 
the envoys sternly. "We will not give you 
one farthing. And before coming here we 
should have thought such an offer as you now 
propose would have been regarded as a mortal 
insult." 

The envoys returned home, without making 
the slightest progress with their mission. 
When the news as to their treatment spread, 
public indignation ran high. People began 
to see the wisdom of Washington's fonner 
stand, and they turned to him instinctively, 
as the one man who could help them in this 
crisis. For war with France now seemed in- 
evitable. 

"You ought to be aware," Hamilton wrote 
to him at this juncture, "that in the event of 
an open rupture with France, the public voice 
will again call you to command the armies of 
your country; and though your friends will 
deplore an occasion which would tear you from 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 153 

that repose to which you have so good a right, 
yet it is the opinion of all with whom I con- 
verse, that you will be compelled to make the 
sacrifice." 

President Adams was of the same mind. 
"We must have your name, if you will in any 
case permit us to use it. There will be more 
efficacy in it, than in many an army." 

And McHenry, the Secretary of War, 
wrote: "You see how the storm thickens, and 
that our vessel will soon require its ancient 
pilot." 

Washington was sorely troubled by these 
overtures and their cause, but never in his long 
life had he shirked a plain duty. 

"I see as you do that the clouds are gather- 
ing and that a storm may ensue," he answered 
McHenry ; "and I find, too, from a variety of 
hints, that my quiet, under these circumstances, 
does not promise to be of long continuance. 
As my whole life has been dedicated to my 
country in one shape or another, for the poor 
remains of it, it is not an object to contend for 
peace and quiet, when all that is valuable is 
at stake, further than to be satisfied that such 
sacrifice is acceptable to my country." 



154 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

Before this letter reached Philadelphia the 
President had appointed him commander-in- 
chief of the new army, and the Senate had 
unanimously confirmed the choice. President 
Adams voiced the general feeling when he 
said: 

"If the General should decline the appoint- 
ment, all the world will he silent and respect- 
fully assent. If he should accept it, all the 
world, except the enemies of this country, 
will rejoice." 

Washingion placed his own feelings in the 
background, and accepted the post. He at 
once began an active correspondence leading 
up to the reorganization of the army. In 
November, 1798, he left home for Philadel- 
phia, to meet the Secretary of War, and some 
of his new staff of officers. He did not re- 
main long in the capital, but soon returned to 
Mount Vernon bringing back a mass of official 
papers, such as requests for appointments. 
He had stipulated that he was not to be called 
personally into the field until actual operations 
should commence. 

About this time he received a warm letter 
from his old friend Lafayette, who had been 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 155 

an exile and a prisoner during the Reign of 
Terror, more than once in danger of his hfe. 
Lafayette wrote that he was persuaded, the 
French Directory did not desire war with the 
United States; but that Washington was the 
one man to bring about a reconcihation be- 
tween the two countries. 

"Beheve me, my dear friend," answered 
Washington, "that no man can deprecate an 
affair of this sort more than I do. If France 
is sincere, I will pledge that my people will 
meet them heart and hand." 

France did, in fact, make roundabout over- 
tures of peace — her attitude being rapidly 
changed by reports of warlike operations in 
America. Washington, however, went calmly 
on with his preparations. He was peacefully 
disposed, but he was a living example of the 
modem Boy Scout mptto, "Be Prepared." 
Roosevelt has put it still more tersely with 
his: "Speak softly, but carry a big stick." 

President Adams sent three new envoys to 
France. General Washington made appoint- 
ments for his army. It was for France to 
choose peace or war. Fortunately and wisely 
she chose the olive branch. 



156 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

The old soldier down at Mount Vernon was 
well pleased. lie did not desire war, but he 
had said more than once that "the surest 
guarantee of peace was a well-equijDped army." 
He did not mean by this, a large army, but 
one that was efficient, and always ready. The 
levying and drilling of raw troops was out-of- 
date. Not only was it expensive and slow, 
but the enemy was likely to strike before an 
army could be licked into shape. 

This, by the way, was shown very forcibly 
in the War of 1812, some years after Wash- 
ington's death, when a few regiments of trained 
British troops easily defeated a mob of hasty 
recruits and marched with fire and sword into 
our capital itself. 

Not long after the affair with France we 
find Washington writing a letter to Hamilton 
heartily approving a plan for a military 
academy. 

"The establishment of such an institution 
is of primary importance. I have omitted no 
opportunity of recommending it in my public 
speeches and otherwise. I sincerely hope that 
the subject will meet with due attention." 

This last letter that he was ever to address 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 157 

to his old aide had its share in bringing about 
the foundation of the Mihtary Academy at 
West Point, now recognized as one of the 
finest training schools for officers, in the world. 

Meanwhile, thinking and planning always 
for his country, Washington awaited the call, 
to serve wherever the country should require. 
He had twice filled the highest post. He was 
now ready to take a subordinate place, with 
his men in the field. 

At last the call came. But it was a call 
from another source — that last dread summons 
to which we must all one da57- respond — and 
the old soldier faced it unflinchingly, with the 
calm response, 

"I am ready!" 



XVI 

THE PASSING OF WASHINGTON 

Winter had set in again at Blount Vernon 
— the last month of the year 1799 — but Wash- 
ington still continued his daily rides around 
the farm, "visiting the out-posts," as he jest- 
ingly said in military speech. 

Although Washington was now sixty-seven 
years old he still seemed in the full vigor of 
health. His simple, regular life coupled with 
his years of outdoor exercise had left him ro- 
bust and erect, a fine picture of manhood. A 
nephew who visited him just at this time says: 

"When I parted from him he stood on the 
steps of the front door. It was a bright frosty 
morning; he had taken his usual ride, and the 
clear, healthy flush on his cheek and his 
sprightly manner brought the remark that we 
had never seen the General look so well. I 
have sometimes thought him decidedly the 

158 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 159 

handsomest man I ever saw; and when in a 
hvely mood, so full of pleasantry, so agreeable 
to all with whom he associated, that I could 
hardly realize he was the same Washington 
whose dignity awed all who approached him." 

All his farming instincts had returned to 
kim during the last few months, and he had 
cfccupied his spare moments in preparing a 
sort of crop calendar, showing a rotation of 
planting through his various fields so as to 
rest the soil and produce the greatest yield. 
This calendar comprised thirty closely-written 
pages, and was accompanied by a letter to his 
steward. It showed his love of order in his 
family affairs, as well as his mental vigor and 
foresight. 

"My greatest anxiety," he said, "is to have 
all that concerns me in such a clear and dis- 
tinct form, that no reproach may attach itself 
to me after I am gone." 

The morning of the 12th of December was 
overcast. A chill wind began to blow, and 
the sky became threatening. The old veteran 
of Valley Forge and of the Indian campaigns 
of long before, however, was not used to stay- 
ing indoors on account of the weather. 



160 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

Bundling himself in his great coat he mounted 
his horse for his daily round of inspection. 

For upwards of five hours he was on the 
move inspecting and planning; and meanwhile 
a spiteful flurry of snow and sleet began to 
fall. When he finally reached home his coat 
and hat were covered with snow. His secre- 
tary met him at the door. 

"I fear you got wet, sir," he observed. 

"No, my gi'cat coat kept me dry," was the 
answer. 

Washington hung this up, but proceeded 
to the dinner table without changing any of 
his other garments. 

That night three inches of snow fell and the 
next morning he did not take his daily ride. 
He complained of a slight sore throat. But 
in the afternoon the weather had cleared up, 
and he walked out on the grounds a little way 
to mark some trees which needed cutting down. 

On retiring that evening his hoarseness had 
increased, and he was advised to take some 
remedy for it. 

"No," replied he; "you know I never take 
anything for a cold. Let it go as it came." 

The next morning, however, his throat was 



i 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 161 

so swollen that he could hardly breathe. The 
family physician was hastily summoned; then 
two others; but their united efforts gave the 
patient only temporary relief. It was an 
acute attack of laiyngitis, or "quinsy sore 
throat." 

Washington recognized at once that his 
hours were numbered. He called his wife 
to his bedside, gave her his final requests, and 
told her where she would find his will. His 
secretary tried to reassure him, saying he 
hoped the end was not so near. 

"Ah, but it is," said the sufferer smiling 
in spite of the pain; "but it is a debt which we 
must all pay, and so I look to the event with 
resignation." 

During the afternoon he had such difficulty 
in breathing, that they had to change his posi- 
tion in bed frequently. 

"I am afraid I fatigue you too much," he 
would say apologetically. The perfect cour- 
tesy which he had shown all through life did 
not desert him here when he was fighting for 
his last breath. 

After one of these struggles he remarked 



162 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

to his old friend, Dr Craik; "Doctor, I die 
hard, but I am not afraid to go." 

The doctor pressed his hand in silence and 
then withdrew to the fireside, trying vainly 
to hide his grief. 

His personal servant, Christopher, had been 
standing by his bedside helping as best he 
might, all day long. Washington noticed it, 
and kindly remarked: 

*'Sit down and rest yourself awhile, my 
friend." 

A little later he managed to say: "I feel I 
am going. I thank you for your attentions, 
but I pray you to take no more trouble about 
me." Still his thought was for the others 
rather than himself. 

That evening he made a final attempt to 
speak. It was to give a few simple instruc- 
tions regarding his burial. His secretary, 
Lear, bowed assent, for his own emotions pre- 
vented him from uttering a word. 

"Do you understand me?" asked Washing- 
ton looking at him. 

"Yes," answered Lear. 

"'Tis well!" said he. 



4 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 163 

These were the last words of Washington. 
They might fittingly be the summing-up of 
his w^hole life. 

Shortly after he passed away without a 
struggle or a sigh. He simply fell asleep. 

Mrs. Washington, who was seated at the foot 
of the bed, asked with a firm voice, "Is he 

■3" 

gone f 

A gesture of the hand from one of the others 
assured her that the great soul had fled. She 
bowed her head. 

" 'Tis well!" she answered, using the same 
words that her husband had breathed out. 
"All is now ov^r. I shall soon follow him." 

It was the evening of December 14, 1799. 
Four days later the funeral services were held, 
and following his wishes they were simple and 
free from display. A small troop of soldiers 
accompanied the casket from the home to the 
family vault, and minute guns were fired. \ 
The General's horse, with his saddle and ' 
pistols, led by two grooms, preceded the body 
of his dead master. The minister of the church 
at Alexandria, "vv^here Washington had been 
a member for so many years, read the burial 
service of the Episcopal faith ; and the Masonic 



164 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

lodge assisted in consigning his remains to 
their last resting place. 

Such was the funeral of Washington, quiet 
and modest as he had wished it; and held 
entirely within the limits of his beloved Mount 
Vernon, the home to which he had looked for- 
ward as a haven in his old age — now to become 
a visible symbol of his presence for all tim,e 
to come. 

When the news went out to the world, 
"Washington is dead," a deep sorrow fell 
upon his countrymen. In hamlets, on farms, 
in cities, work was suspended, and men 
gathered in groups sadly talking over the 
glorious past. 

"He rode this way, when he led his men — 
don't you remember?" 

"I recollect how fine he looked when he 
rode through Jersey to his inauguration!" 

"He was the greatest man this nation or 
any other ever saw!" 

Such were a few of the remarks that might 
be heard on eveiy side. 

Congress, on receiving the tidings immedi- 
ately adjourned for the day. The speaker's 
chair was draped in black, and the members 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 165 

wore mourning for thirty days. A j oint com- 
mittee was appointed from House and Senate 
to consider the most suitable manner of doing 
honor to him who was "first in war, first in 
peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen." 

Nor were the expressions of grief and re- 
spect confined to this country. The two great 
powers which had been arrayed against him 
hastened to do honor to his memory. The 
great channel fleet of England, riding at 
anchor, lowered the flags of every frigate and 
every other ship of the line to half mast. It 
was a sincere tribute to a foeman who was 
more responsible than any other one man for 
the loss of her American colonies, but who 
personally England had learned to respect 
and honor. 

At about the same time. Napoleon Bona- 
parte, who was emerging as the strong m,an 
of France, decreed that the standards of his 
army should be surmounted with crape for a 
period of ten days. 

Martha Washington survived her husband 
only three years, when the family vault was 
reopened and she was placed by his side. 
Some vears later the two coffins were encased 



1166 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

in white marble, and thus they have remained 
to the view of visitors to Mount Vernon to- 
day. They had been wonderfully happy and 
congenial in their home life, "and in their 
death thej^ were not divided." 

Many years later a grateful nation com- 
pleted and dedicated to Washington's memory 
a noble ^haft of stone, five hundred and fifty 
five feet high, rising above the banks of the 
Potomac, in the beautiful capital cit}'- which 
also bears his name. But neither of these 
tributes was needed to perpetuate his fame. 
He will always be remembered both for his 
services to his country, and the fine example 
he set. Gladstone said of him that he was 
"the purest figure in history." And Jeffer- 
son, who differed with him on many questions 
of state, wrote: 

"His integrity was most pure; his justice 
the most inflexible I have ever known; no 
motives of interest or consanguinity, of friend- 
ship or hatred, being able to bias his decision. 
He was, indeed, in eveiy sense of the word, 
a wise, a good, and a great man." 



XVII 

WASHINGTON THE MAN 

As we finish tracing Washington's Hfe step 
by step, we find that it was not, what we would 
call to-day, ea^citing. He did no one thing 
so remarkable that it stands out above every- 
thing else. He did not play the hero, or pose. 
What he did do were the every-day things 
of life — but he did them well. 

Washington the man suffered greatly at the 
hands of his first biographers. They made 
him out a prig and a saint, and they sounded 
his virtues so insistently that he quit being a 
human being at all to thousands of boys 
and girls of a later generation. Nothing 
would have grieved him more than to have 
foreseen such a fate. The story is told of him 
that as he began to grow famous, the children 
of the neighborhood began to stand in awe of 
him. They could not understand how a great 

167 



168 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

soldier, who looked so fine as he rode by on 
his prancing steed, could possibly unbend. 
They did not know that he had loved children 
all his life, tliough having none of his own, 
and that he liked to dance and romp as well 
as any of them. 

As the story goes, there was a young folks* 
party at his home — it might have been Hal- 
lowe'en — and when the fun and noise were 
at their height, the General rode up, dis- 
mounted, and entered the room. At once the 
merriment stopped. The little girls dropped 
old-fashioned courtesies to him, and the boys 
stood stiffly at attention. Washington gravely 
saluted though with twinkling eyes. He 
pinched some of the girls' cheeks, patted the 
boys on the back, and tried to indicate that the 
fun was to go on. But somehow it lagged. 
So presently he slipped out of the room, and 
the youngsters forgot their dignity. On went 
the noise and fun until, awhile later, some of 
the jolly crowd discovered Washington in 
another hallway. He had slipped quietly 
around to enjoy the party unseen, without 
putting a damper upon it. 

All of which shows that fame has its draw- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 169 

backs. We know, from many other things 
told of him, that he often fomid it irksome and 
liked most of all to live the simple life of a 
country gentleman. 

The same love of sport that made Wash- 
ington a leader among his boy companions 
stayed with him through life. He always 
liked to have children about him, and in one 
letter he speaks of having had "a pretty little 
frisk" with a houseful of children. Naturally 
quiet and reserved, he unbent most of all when 
he was with them. His granddaughter, Nellie 
Custis, led him a merry chase with her lively 
pranks, and said later that she "made him 
laugh most heartily" at some of her pranks and 
capers. 

When he was a boy he shared in all the 
sports like any other youngster, and it was not 
strange that he should have been chosen as 
leader; for he was well-grown, strong, and 
active. And the other boys very soon found 
out that he played fair. He was chosen as 
umpire in disputes because they could depend 
upon his honesty. Yet if some one had 
praised him for it he probably would have been 
greatly surprised. For to him there was no 



170 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

other 'way. He did not make of it a virtue, 
but just plain common sense. 

That he played soldier, and drilled his play- 
mates in war games was not remarkable, nor 
was it prophetic of his later career. It is true 
that Na'poleon also played soldier, and made 
of himself a great world conqueror when he 
grew up. But Washington had no such 
dreams of conquest. He was probably in- 
spired to play war games by the danger from 
French and Indians, which then threatened 
Virginia; also from the fact that his brother 
Lawrence was going into the real wars. 

Washington was a plodder at school, rather 
than a brilliant student. Nothing came easy 
to him, but when he once got it, he remembered 
it. As he grew up he -was diffident, especially 
with the girls. One of his girl friends wrote 
later in life that "she liked George, but did 
wish that he would talk more." 

As he grew up to manhood he had several 
little love affairs, one in especial with "a low- 
land beauty" to whom he even wrote poetry. 
But she jilted him as did others, who lost 
patience with him for his bashfulness. One 
such romance has come down to history. It 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 171 

seems that when he was twenty-four, some mih- 
tary business caused him to make a journey to 
Boston. This was twenty years before the 
Revolution. Both in coming and going he 
visited in New York, where he met Mary 
Phihpse, a vivacious young lady of about his 
own age. A picture of her which has been 
handed down shows a pretty face framed in 
bewitching dark curhng hair. The young 
cavaher was badly smitten; but he had rivals 
who knew ho^v to say soft nothings better than 
he. One of them. Colonel Roger Morris, 
afterwards won the fair Mary. They were 
married. When the war came on, Morris 
chose the Tory side. He and his wife were 
compelled to flee to Canada. As a curious 
sequel to the tale, his house became Wash- 
ington's military headquarters in 1776. 

When Washington finally became success- 
ful in his courting, he was more than repaid 
for his former ill-success. He found a con- 
genial mate in Martha Custis, and his home 
life was remarkably happy. 

There are pleasing glimpses of this home life 
in his letters, many of which have been pre- 
served. They make us feel as though we 



172 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

were in the very presence of the man, for no 
one of this time — not even FrankHn or Jef- 
ferson who were hrilliant letter-writers — ex- 
celled him in setting down the intimate touches* 
which breathed his spirit. 

Let us peep in on him as he sits at his desk 
there at IMount Vernon, still in the early 
days of married life, writing to his friends of 
his dail}^ doings. Let us read again stray pas- 
sages from his daily diary, which show his 
manner of life even more intimately: 

"Several of the family were taken with the 
measels. . . . Hauled the Sein and got some 
fish, but was near being disappointed of my 
Boat by means of an oyster man who had lain 
at my landing and plagued me a good deal 
by his disorderly behavior." 

We read elsewhere that this man was a 
poacher who wouldn't go away when Wash- 
ington ordered hun to do so; but instead 
threatened Washington with a gun. The 
latter wasted na more words on him, but 
waded straight out to him, gun and all, and 
seizing the boat capsized it. He then told the 
bedraggled fisherman that if he caught him 
there again he would thrash him soundly. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 173 

"Mrs. Washington was a good deal better 
to-day," he continued; "but the oyster man 
still continuing his disorderly behavior at my 
landing, 1 was obliged in the most peremptory 
manner to order him and his company away." 

That the Virginia planter had a temper all 
his friends and servants knew. He kept a 
tight rein upon it generally, but it peeved him 
to find any of his servants slackers with their 
work. 

"Went to Alexandria and saw my Tobacco 
... in very bad order . . . visited my Plan- 
tation. Severely reprimanded young Ste- 
phens for his insolence. . . . After Breakfast 
. . . rode out to my plantation . . . found 
Stephens hard at work with an ax — very ex- 
traordinary this! . . . Two negroes sick . . . 
ordered them to be blooded (i. e. bled). . . . 
Visited my Plantation and found to my great 
surprise Stephens constantly at work." 

Stephens had evidently got pretty deeply 
into his black books, and was trying his best 
to get out again. But the master seemed to 
see in his work only an effort to pull the wool 
over his eyes; for a. little further on we find 
this entry: "Visited my Plantations before 



174 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

sunrise, and forbid Stephens keeping any 
horses upon my expense." 

Here is an entry of a different sort: "Went 
to a ball at Alexandria, where Musick and 
dancing was the chief entertainment. . . . 
Great plenty of bread and butter, some biscuits 
with tea and coffee, which the drinkers of could 
not distinguish from hot water sweetened. . . . 
I shall therefore distinguish this ball by the 
stile and title of the Bread and Butter Ball." 

There speaks the lover of good things to 
eat, and the connoisseur of coffee ! Old diary, 
we thank you ! 

But the social diversions must give way to 
work again: "After several efforts to make 
a plow . . . was feign to give it up. . . . Mrs. 
Posy and some young woman, whose name 
was unknown to anybody in this family, dined 
here." (Evidently Mrs. Posy mmnbled her 
words when introducing her!) "Spent the 
greatest part of the day making a new plow 
of my own invention." (So he did not "give 
it up" after all; that was not his nature.) 
"Set my plow to work and found she answered 
very well." 

"A messenger came to inform me that my 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 175 

Mill was in great danger. . . . Got there my- 
self just time enough to give her a reprieve 
... by wheeling dirt into the place which 
the water had worked." 

This last item shows that he could and did 
take off his own coat on occasion, and work 
with his men. Indeed his notebooks then and 
in his old age as well showed that he liked 
nothing so well as to make a plow, wield an 
ax, or show with his own hands the best 
method of cradling wheat. **If you want a 
thing well done, do it yourself," seems to have 
been his motto. 

Here are some entries written in his agri- 
cultural notebook, in the closing years of his 
life, and, let us remember, by a victorious 
General and beloved President: 

"Harrowed the ground at Muddy Hole, 
which had been twice ploughed, for Albany 
pease in broad-cast. . . . Began to sow the re- 
mainder of the Siberian wheat. . . . Ordered 
a piece of ground, two acres, to be ploughed 
at the Ferry ... to be drilled with corn and 
potatoes between, each ten feet apart, row 
from row of the same kind. 

"Corn. On rows ten feet one way, and 



176 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

eighteen inches thick, single stalks; will yield 
as much to the Acre in equal ground, as at five 
feet each way with two stalks in a hill. To 
that Potatoes, Carrots, and Pease between the 
drilled Corn, if not exhaustive, . . . are nearly 
a clear profit. 

"Let the hands at the Mansion House grub 
well, and perfectly prepare the old clover lot. 
. . . When I say grub well, I mean that every- 
thing which is not to remain as trees, should 
be taken up by the roots . . . for I seriously 
assure you, that I had rather have one acre 
cleared in this manner, than four in the com- 
mon mode. ... It is a great and very dis- 
agreeable eye-sore to me, as well as a real 
injury ... to have foul meadows. 

''You will be particularly attentive to my 
negi'oes in their sickness; and to order every 
overseer positively to be so likewise; for I am 
sorry to observe that the generality of them 
view these poor crfeatures in scarcely any other 
light than they do a draught horse or ox . . . 
instead of comforting and nursing them when 
they lie on a sick bed. . . . 

"I find by the reports that Sam is, in a 
manner, always retiu-ned sick. Doll at the 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 177 

Ferry, and several of the spinners, very fre- 
quently so, for a week at a stretch. And 
ditcher Charles often laid up with a lameness. 
I never wish my people to work when they are 
really sick . . . but if you do not examine 
into their complaints, they will lay by when 
no more ails them than all those who stick to 
their business. . . . My people will lay up 
a month, at the end of which no visible change 
in their countenance, nor the loss of an ounce 
of flesh is discoverable ; and their allowance of 
provision is going on as if nothing ailed them." 

From all of which it may be seen that the 
old-time darky had his whims and his miseries 
like his easy-going descendant of today. 

There can be no denying the fact that Wash- 
ington had a high temper. Very seldom in 
his strenuous life did he let it get away from 
him — but some of those occasions are historic. 
Nothing roused him more than cowardice on 
the field of battle. In commenting on Brad- 
dock's defeat at the hands of the French and 
Indians, he could hardly find words to express 
his contempt of the English troops. He 
called them "cowardly regulars," said their be- 
havior was "dastardly," and that they "broke 



178 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

and ran as sheep before hounds." 

Later on he was just as provoked over the 
action of American troops. When the Brit- 
ish fleet landed at New York near Hell-gate 
on the Sound, and two New England regi- 
ments lost their nerve and ran away without 
firing a shot, Washington is said to have 
"damned them for cowardly rascals," and, 
drawing his sword to have struck fleeing 
soldiers with the back of it. So carried away 
was he with rage, that he paid no attention to 
the enemy now only a few paces distant, and 
would probably have been captured himself, 
had not his aides seized his horse's bridle and 
forcibly dragged him away. 

At Monmouth an aide states that when the 
General met a man running away he was 
"exasperated," and threatened the man that he 
would have him whipped. And General 
Scott says that on finding Lee retreating, "he 
swore like an angel from heaven." Hamilton, 
who was also on his staff, and between whom 
and his commander a strong tie of affection 
existed, admits that his chief's temper some- 
times got the better of him. Whose, indeed, 
would not — charged with the task of leading 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 179 

a- half -starved army for weary months? It 
was clearly an attack of nerves, and proves 
again that our Washington was only human. 

Gilbert Stuart, the famous painter who has 
given us the best known portrait of Washing- 
ton, says that "all his features were indicative 
of the strongest and most ungovernable pas- 
sions, and had he been born in the forests, he 
would have been the fiercest man among the 
savage tribes." Stuart's daughter relates this 
anecdote : 

* 'While talking one day with General Lee, 
my father happened to remark that Wash- 
ington had a tremendous temper, but held it 
under wonderful control. General Lee break- 
fasted with the President and Mrs. Wash- 
ington a few days afterwards. 

" 'I saw your portrait the other day,' said 
the General, *but Stuart says you have a 
tremendous temper.* 

" 'Upon my word,' said Mrs. Washington, 
coloring, *Mr. Stuart takes a great deal upon 
himself to make such a remark.* 

" *But stay, my dear lady,* said General 
Lee, 'he added that the President had it under 
wonderful control.* 



180 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

"With something like a smile, Washington 
remarked, 'He is right.' " 

We dwell upon these stories of his failings, 
because we want every boy and girl to-day 
to see Washington the man, and not Wash- 
ington the hero. As a boy he was only a boy 
among others^ — ^getting his lessons by hard 
grubbing. As a young man he was adventur- 
ous and hardy — not afraid of a task which 
sent him for long months at a time into the 
wilderness. As a man he showed himself a 
natural-born leader of men. He won the War 
of Independence, not by his brilliant victories, 
— for as a matter of cold fact they were few 
and far between, — but by his ability to hold his 
army intact despite defeat and hardship. 

When liberty was achieved, he was the one 
man to whom the whole nation turned for 
further leadership. The common people be- 
lieved in him, because he could be trusted to 
"carry through" without fear or favor. 

He was not born gi-eat. He grew into 
greatness so slowly and unconsciously that 
when honors were later thrust upon him, he 
was confused. To him it meant simply doing 
the daily task as best he knew how. When 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 181 

unanimously chosen iPresident — the first to 
hold this untried office in an untried nation — 
he felt a cold chill of fear lest the public con- 
fidence should be misplaced. But still he 
never faltered in the new task; that was not 
George Washington's way. 

It has been often said of him that he was 
cold and distant. Certain it is that his dignity 
was a marked trait, and no one felt that 
liberties could be taken with him. But under- 
neath the calm exterior was a highly sensitive 
and warm nature. The man who, when a 
young frontiersman in Virginia, was so moved 
by the hardships of the pioneers against the 
Indians as to exclaim: "I solemnly declare I 
could offer myself a willing victim to the 
butchering enemy, provided this would con- 
tribute to the people's ease!"; who could show 
a constant affection for and deference to his 
mother, even when he had become a public 
man; who could share his soldiers' sufferings 
at Valley Forge ; who could actually shed tears 
when he viewed from across the Hudson, a 
surprise attack upon some of his troops; who 
could make such young men as Lafayette and 
Hamilton cling to him as to a father; who 



182 FAMOUS AMERICANS 

could embrace his officers in farewell at 
Fraunces' Tavern, leaving these strong men 
in tears — surely such a man as this was not 
naturally "cold and distant!" 

That he was truty great has been shown by 
each succeeding year since he was laid to rest 
at Mount Vernon. A century and a quarter 
have passed by, and as the country itself has 
grown and expanded from the weakest to the 
mightiest among nations, so the name of Wash- 
ington has kept pace with it. Surveyor, 
Indian fighter, soldier, statesman, farmer, true 
gentleman, — his name lives not merely in the 
tall shaft of granite on the Potomac; not 
merely in the Capital city whose influence is 
now felt around the world ; not merely in that 
great and prosperous State on the Pacific 
Coast which also bears his name. It will live 
forever as "first in the hearts of his country- 
men." 

PRINTED IN THE U. S, A. 



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